Law & Order
by love.devil.movies.baby
Summary: It was just a normal day at the office until Michonne looked out the window to see two police officers brawling in the street. Now she feels compelled to help out the handsome cop who's fighting for custody with his cheating wife and best friend. It should have been a straight forward case, but she and Rick seem to be spending more time together than necessary...Richonne AU
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: The writing bug bit me again, but this time with my favorite pairing from one of my favorite shows. The Walking Dead has been more depressing than usual lately, so I decided to write something a little lighter for my favorite couple. It's A/U, but uses the characters we all know and love. Please let me know what you think!**

 **Disclaimer: I own none of these characters or settings. This is an exercise in creativity and not to be used for profit.**

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"Michonne!" Sasha came bursting into the office like a bat out of hell. "You have to see this!" The copper colored woman was breathing heavily, instantly setting her companion on guard.

"What is it?" Michonne leapt up from behind her desk, the skirt of her dress rising up to almost indecent levels as she made her way towards her coworker and friend. She did not bother to pull it down in her haste to come to her friend's assistance.

"There's two cops," Sasha was panting through her words. Her curly hair, normally in an orderly asymmetrical cut, was sticking to her signature crimson lipstick. "They're outside fighting in the street!"

"What?" Michonne was already en-route to the window. She tugged the skirt down on her dress as she yanked open the blinds to confirm what her friend was telling her.

"I know!" Sasha was behind her, scrambling to get a better look. "The car pulled over like it was about to crash and then these two came out swinging!"

"How did you see it?" Michonne questioned.

"I was coming back from a client meeting. They nearly clipped my car pulling in. I thought they had lost control of their vehicle." Sasha pointed down to where two men were yelling loudly at one another.

"They've lost control of something, all right," Michonne almost wanted to laugh. It was playing out like a scene from a sitcom. "Do you think they are partners?" Michonne's wide brown eyes were trained down on the street.

"Hell if I know," Sasha did laugh. "I'm wondering if they're only really policemen."

Michonne could see the glint of their gold badges from her vantage point. "They might not be for long after this."

"So what do you do when it's the police acting up?" her friend asked. "Who do you call?"

Michonne just shrugged. "What are they arguing about?"

"Let's open the window," Sasha suggested shamelessly. Michonne would have protested, but she was already tugging it open.

It was like someone had turned up the television. The officer's words came in all at once, colored by thick Southern accents. They sounded like country boys, not all together foreign in Atlanta, but a novelty nonetheless.

"She's my fucking wife, Shane!" the shorter of the two officers was yelling. He dragged the other man's name out in an almost derogatory manner.

"Oh shit," Sasha muttered under her breath. Both women leaned forward in order to hear better.

"You think I don't know that, man?!" The man called Shane seemed exasperated. "You think it's something I was trying to do?"

"Oh, you're going to tell me it was an accident?" Officer Number One seemed almost on the verge of laughing. "You just accidentally slept together?"

"You have no idea what it was like, man. While you were gone."

"Gone?" this time Officer Number One did laugh. He shoved his curly hair out of his face almost absentmindedly as he got in his partner's space. "I was in the fucking _hospital_!"

"We thought you were gonna die. I was watching out for your family. Like you said—" The officer called Shane reached out to touch his friend.

"Don't you dare," the curly-haired one snarled and smacked his friend's arm away. "Don't you dare act like this was something I did."

"You and Lori have been on the rocks for years. Even Carl noticed." Shane was starting to get worked up now.

"You leave my son out of this," Curly instructed, brandishing a finger in his friend's face.

"What are you gonna tell him about me?" all at once, Shane seemed to become unsure.

"That's what your worried about? What my son thinks? Christ, Shane. We've known each other since we were kids and you go and…" Officer Number One lost steam, seemingly succumbing to emotion as he doubled over, his head in his hands.

"Rick, man. I'm sorry. Look, we gotta talk about this. We gotta—"

Michonne and Sasha and the crowd gathering outside never got to hear what the officers had to do because the one called Rick swung up in one fluid motion and broke his friend's nose.

"Fuck," this time the curse word slipped from Michonne's lips as the blood downstairs went spraying. Cartilage and skin had given away in one sickening crack. Shane pulled away from his friend, clutching his nose. They could hear him laugh, a wry, humorless chuckle.

"All right, Rick. If that's what you want." And he lunged for his friend. Rick was ready for him, blocking and throwing as many blows as he was receiving.

Michonne was not about to stand and watch them kill each other. No one on the street was moving to do anything besides whip out their cellphones. "We should stop them."

"You want two black women to go downstairs and break up a fight between two white police officers?" Sasha's voice was dripping with sarcasm.

"We're lawyers. I think we can take them," Michonne had to smile, despite the situation. "They're embarrassing themselves out there."

"I say we let them," Sasha leaned out the window as a particularly loud crack sounded. "Oh, actually, yeah, we better go stop them." The woman pulled her head back in. "Someone's going to bleed to death."

The women forewent the elevator and clacked down the stairs in their heels. Michonne was thankful that she had worn sensible ankle boots to work today. The cold autumn air bit into her skin as she and Sasha burst out into the street.

Up close the battle looked even worse. The men were of reasonable equal height, but the darker haired of the two had at least 15 pounds on the other one. Still, his foe was putting up a formidable fight. His curly brown hair was plastered to his head and his eye was swollen shut, but he was swinging with a ferocity that scared Michonne.

"You're supposed to be my friend!" the curly headed man punctuated his well-thrown body shot with a stinging accusation.

"I _am_ your damn friend!" the dark haired cop yelled back while wiping his face. Both of their dark uniforms were glinting at the collar from freshly-spilled blood.

People were gathered in the street watching. The entire staff of the deli across the street was shameless filming on their phones. Though several people looked apprehensive, no one was brave enough to break the two men up. The one whose nose was broken tackled his opponent around the knees, driving him into the pavement. The curly headed man braced himself but went down hard. He was taking blows to the face until he seemed to become one lump of bleeding flesh.

"Holy shit," Sasha groaned out loud. "What do we do?"

Michonne did the only thing she could think to do.

"Stop!" she ran into the street, ignoring the cold breeze prickling her dark brown skin. "Stop right now!" she kept screaming as she ran, until she was practically yelling into the dark haired man's ear. She caught his elbow as he drew it back to throw another punch. Behind her, Sasha was yelling something unintelligible. It occurred to Michonne what a predicament this was. People around her were all shouting at once.

"You two are police officers!" She dropped the man's arm and stood as tall as she could, assuming the tone she used to scold her son and address unruly witnesses. Her heart was pounding in her chest, rattling off a frantic tattoo. She hoped she looked more confident than she felt.

It must have worked because the dark haired man let the other one go. Rick fell limply to the street as his opponent stumbled away, bleeding profusely from his nose.

"Oh my God," Sasha thundered up behind her. "Do we…call the police?"

"An ambulance I think," Michonne knelt over the still form of the curly haired man. He was breathing shakily, but unable to open his eyes through the swelling. She was tempted to touch him, but unsure where. He looked like the human embodiment of wound.

"I'll dial 9-1-1," Sasha was already pulling out her phone.

"No need, ladies," Michonne nearly jumped out of her skin at the heavy Southern accent behind them. The two women turned quickly to see the broken-nosed officer reaching into his car. He mumbled a lot of unintelligible numbers and words into the police cruiser radio. "Help is on the way." He bent down next to the man he had just been beating, wiping some blood off of his face. The other man tried in vain to swipe his hand away, but couldn't seem to muster the strength.

"Leave it, Rick," Shane had the nerve to sound irritated, as if the whole thing had been a minor inconvenience.

Michonne met the police officer's eyes, ready to protest. She was startled by what she saw there. She was expecting anger, aggression even. She had not anticipated his calm. He coolly wiped the blood from his partner's face.

"Ma'am," his dark eyes found Michonne. "I can assure you, I can handle it from here."

Michonne glanced at the man lying in the street. With the blood wiped from his face, she could just make out two blue-grey irises staring up at her through hooded eyes.

"All right, Officer Walsh," Michonne read his badge as calmly as possible, already pulling Sasha away. "Looks like you have it handled." Sasha gave her a weird look as they crossed back out of the street and onto the sidewalk.

"Call anyway," Michonne instructed her in a low whisper. "I don't trust him," she glanced back at the bleeding officers.

"He's got crazy in his eyes," Sasha observed wearily.

"Go inside and call. I'll watch him," Michonne was determined not to take her eyes off of the scene.

The minutes stretched out as Sasha disappeared inside. Sirens began to wail in the distance, but as far as Michonne was concerned, they could not get there fast enough. There was something about the dark haired officer that was not sitting well with her at all. He was pulling the other man up into a sitting position and leaning him against the car when he looked up and caught her eye again. The sarcastic little smile would have put fear in a lesser woman's heart.

"Took them long enough," Sasha muttered as other officers finally arrived. It was clear that they were well-acquainted with the street brawlers. One of them helped the curly headed man to his feet, looking amused by the whole thing. Officer Shane Walsh was explaining something to a coworker. Other officers were milling around with clipboard and recorders, getting statements from the surrounding observers.

One such officer spotted the pair of them and gestured to another. She started walking over to the two women, when Michonne was struck with an idea.

"Give her a statement, I'll be right back," she told Sasha. To her friend's credit, she did not call Michonne out on her bossiness, but nodded and headed straight for the policewoman.

Michonne took advantage of the distraction to step out into the street. She walked casually towards the ambulance, where the curly headed officer called Rick was sitting with his head in his hands. He was alone for the first time since the whole debacle started.

"Excuse me, officer?" the sun was beginning to set and Michonne shivered in her thin blazer, but was resolved to get this done. The man looked surprised that she was even talking to him, much less being polite.

"Yeah?" his voice was colored with the same accent as his partner, but raspier. He sounded tired.

"I work at the law firm across the street," Michonne gestured to the glass building behind her.

"So you caught the whole show," Rick shook his head, as if he couldn't believe the absurdity of the situation. "Sorry you had to see that, ma'am."

Michonne could think of no response to this. The anger had seemed to seep out of the man in front of her. Now he just looked…broken. "I just wanted to give you my card." She fumbled in her pocket for her phone where she kept spare business cards tucked in the case.

To her great surprise, the police officer in front of her began to chuckle. His smile crinkled his face, highlighting just how much blood he was covered in and the fact that he had the most vibrant blue eyes that she had ever seen.

"Guess I'll be needing a lawyer for a few things," he mused, still laughing, and took the business card. "Thank you kindly."

"You're welcome," Michonne had a million questions, namely why he had just fought his partner in the middle of the road, but she felt now was not the time.

"Feel free to use it," she told him. A long silence stretched between the two of them.

"Hey Grimes!" one of the arriving officers shouted at him. "Let's get back to the station."

Officer Rick Grimes nodded at his coworker, and then turned back to her.

"Uh, thanks Miss…" he consulted her card. "Jackson."

"You're welcome, Officer Grimes." She chose to walk away first, suddenly aware of how cold it was outside. She hurried back to Sasha, clip clopping across the street in her sensible shoes.

"You gave him your card?" Sasha asked as they entered the building, adrenaline buzzing.

"Seems like he could use the help," Michonne glanced back over her shoulder. As quickly as the fight had started, all trace had been wiped away as the sun began to set.

"Think he'll call you?" Sasha thumbed the button on the elevator.

"I have no idea," Michonne shivered.

"He will if he knows what's good for him," Sasha observed. "Sounds like he's going to need a good lawyer."

Michonne could not disagree. "We'll see."

"Do you think one of the deli guys will give me the video?" Sasha asked with a laugh.

"Girl, you're shameless." Michonne had to giggle.

"You know you want it."

"We'll ask Abraham tomorrow. You know he's got a thing for you." Michonne teased, happy for a reprieve from the serious turn the day took.

"I hope he managed to take a good one. I hate when people don't turn their phone to landscape," Sasha griped as they ascended.

Michonne shook her head, still laughing. "You want to get a drink?" she asked her friend.

"Hell yeah. We just saw to police whooping on each other. We need a damn drink." Sasha grinned broadly as she headed to grab her purse. "I'll drive," she informed Michonne. "You've done your civic duty for today."

Michonne gathered her belongings. "I'm glad he stopped."

"Me too. Poor curly-haired boy. He was a cute little thing."

"I don't think he'd like to be called a 'little thing'," Michonne laughed.

"Whatever he wants to be called, he better call you. Sounds like he's got a divorce on the way. Maybe some criminal charges."

"Let's not think about it. I want a drink." Michonne seized her purse.

"I'll call Glenn. We can meet at the bar," Sasha was already pulling her phone out.

Her spirits lifted considerably, Michonne headed out the door, resolved to think no more of the fight today.

"Rick, how did you manage to get yourself in this mess?" The older man questioned him as he stitched him up with a well-practiced hand.

"Hershel, I just told you," Rick sighed. He was in no mood to be lectured right now, not even by one of his oldest friends. "Shane—"

"I understand what your friend did," Hershel cut him off in his best no-nonsense voice. "What I am failing to understand, _Officer_ Grimes, is why you felt the middle of the street in the middle of the day was the proper time to discuss it."

"To be fair, we didn't do much talking," Rick winced as Hershel plunged the needle back in.

"I can see that," Hershel's tone held no humor. "Did you think about Carl before you decided to resort to fisticuffs? Did you consider your health?"

"Hershel…"

"No excuses, Rick. You were in a coma 3 months ago. You're barely back on your feet. And now Carl is going to see his father all busted up." Hershel snipped the medical thread expertly.

"She's sleeping with him. It started while I was in the coma. Didn't stop when I came out," Rick told him quietly. His head was pounding like he'd just drunk a bottle of Jim Beam. "I've been trying for months and she just let me. And the whole time she was…" Rick couldn't bring himself to say it.

Hershel gently touched Rick on the shoulder. "I'm sorry to hear that, son. I know what Lori means to you. Have you talked to her?"

"I ain't gone home yet," Rick didn't know what he was going to say to her, or worse, their son.

"Rick, you need to discuss it with your wife." Hershel sighed and regarded Rick seriously.

"She's not my wife. Not anymore," just saying it out loud brought back fresh pain. "Apparently, she hasn't been for a long time."

Hershel stared at him sadly. "You need to talk about it, nonetheless," he reminded him.

"Guess I'll do that now," Rick reached for his sweatshirt. His entire head seemed to be throbbing.

"You're welcome to stay the night," Hershel informed it. "The guest room is always there for you."

"Nah thank you. I don't want Maggie to see me like this," Rick hazarded a smile.

"Well, come on by tomorrow and let me take a look at those cuts. Can't have them getting infected." Hershel stood up to see him out.

"You should see the other guy," Rick took some small comfort in the fact that Shane's face would never quite be symmetrical ever again.

Hershel chuckled. "I'll see you tomorrow, son."

"See you tomorrow," Rick nodded at him.

Tomorrow, there would be hell to pay, Rick was sure of that. He and Shane were definitely suspended, there was no getting around that. He hoped he could at least still get paid. He had hospital bills up to the ceiling and a mortgage that never seemed to shrink. Plus, it looked like he was going to need a divorce lawyer now. He didn't see how their relationship was going to survive this. His mind wandered to their son. Carl was going to be so disappointed.

Lori was waiting up for him when he got home. He tossed his keys into the dish her parents had gotten them for their wedding.

"Rick," she was standing in the living room, wearing the robe he had bought for her two Christmases ago. Her brown hair was loose and damp around her shoulders, her face bare of makeup. "Oh my God, your face," she rushed forward to touch him, but he dodged her hand.

"Lori, you got something you want to tell me?" he cut straight to the chase. He folded his arms over his chest, pushing his emotions down deep.

"Rick, I…." to her credit, Lori at least managed to look ashamed.

"How long?" he needed to hear it from her.

"Rick, we were having problems before you got hurt…" Lori worried her lower lip between her teeth, a habit she had since they were 15.

"I don't want to hear your excuses, Lori. How long?" Rick was determined not to give into her tricks.

"It happened about a month into your coma," she said quietly. "We stopped for a while, when you came out. But then…"

"Then you decided to keep on fucking my best friend," Rick finished for her.

Lori began to cry. "It wasn't like that," she pleaded.

"The hell it wasn't," Rick struggled to keep his anger quiet. Carl was still sleeping. "You let me believe we were doing better. We were talking about another kid." Rick slammed his hand down on the china cabinet. The glassware inside rattled ominously.

"I didn't want to hurt you," Lori's tears were full blown now. "I wanted to tell you, but you were so happy."

"And if Shane didn't let it slip, would you ever had said something?" Rick questioned. "How many years would you have fucked my friend behind my back?" Rick hardly ever cursed, but they were coming fast and loose now.

"We were thinking of a way to tell you," she sobbed. "Rick, you have no idea what you'll always mean to me. But we haven't been in love in a long time. We both know it."

"I was willing to try," Rick whispered fiercely. "You let me believe that you were too. I know we had problems, Lori, but I would never have done this to you. I would never have hurt you like this." He was picking his keys up already.

"Rick," Lori's voice broke as she scrambled to catch his arm. "We didn't mean to do this to you. I swear it."

"Yeah," Rick shook her off of the sleeve of his favorite leather jacket. "That's what Shane said too." He briefly considered going upstairs and getting Carl, but decided against it. He didn't want to scare the boy. "You'll be hearing from my lawyer."

He left her crying in the house they bought together. He drove aimlessly for a while, cruising through the streets of Atlanta. They had moved here together from their tiny little town to give their son a better future. Shane had agreed to transfer with him. They had been best friends since the fourth grade.

And now his best friend was sleeping with his wife.

Rick swallowed the tears threatening to spill over. He pulled into a motel and paid cash for a room. Tomorrow he would have to return home to get his clothing and talk to Carl. He had to make his son understand. He would never tell him what his mother did, even though he was hurting. He couldn't tarnish hi son's view of his mother. But he needed to know why Rick was moving on.

Sighing, he kicked off his shoes and flopped down on the hard mattress. Layer by layer, he peeled his clothing off, grimacing at the stiffness of his blood stained uniform. As he pulled it over his head, he heard a crinkle. Fishing around in the front pocket, he extracted the card that the lawyer had given him earlier.

 **Michonne Jackson**

 **Attorney at Law**

 **Law Office of Harrison and Jones**

 **555-8703**

The sting of embarrassment hit him as he recalled all of the people who had seen his meltdown today. It wasn't his proudest moment and he wished he had put up a better fight against his former best friend. The sight of that woman, all decked out in a blood orange dress and blazer, speeding across the street to his rescue was going to stick with him for a long time. He wondered what compelled her to approach him. Pity probably. Even so, he tucked the card into his wallet. He might need someone like her, if he could afford her.

Exhausted, Rick fell backwards on the bed, ignoring the musty smell from the pillows, and fell into a restless sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Wow, thank you for all of the words of encouragement and follows! Please continue to let me know what you think. Here goes chapter 2...**

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"Michonne, check it out," Glenn brandished his phone, "You're going viral!"

Michonne looked up from her computer screen where she was finishing up a case. The young man's handsome face danced into view from behind his cellphone screen. His thick black hair was flopping around his head, highlighting high cheekbones and youthful features. He was watching her intently through ebon, almond shaped eyes, grinning like Christmas had come early.

"Glenn…" Michonne rubbed her temples. For a week, the people in her office had refused to let the incident go. Sasha had thrilled them all at happy hour with a regaling tale of Michonne's supposed heroics, embellishing the whole ordeal.

"What?" Glenn shrugged innocently, "I've got the paperwork you asked for too. I just thought you'd be interested. You look really good, running across the street, saving a cop…" Glenn baited her, bouncing the phone in front of her face.

Michonne had to smile. His energy was infectious. She had always had a soft spot in her heart for Glenn Rhee. As a teenager, he used to come over and do yardwork for her, to save money for school. He was still working his way through college, this time for a grad school degree in architecture. He was the smartest person she had ever come across, with a sharp wit and multi-tasking skills to match. It seemed natural to make him her paralegal.

"All right, let me have a look," she shoved her laptop a few inches away to make room for her excitable assistant.

"Look at you, running in heels. " Glenn knelt beside her, setting the phone down in front of them and restarting the video. "The masses love your shoes, by the way," Glenn provided commentary on top of the shaky video footage they were watching.

It was a surreal experience to watch herself in miniature, rushing towards a brutal fight through the lens of a camera.

"I hope he's ok," she mused under her breath, her stomach turning as she watched the fight again on Glenn's cell phone.

"What was his name?" Glenn already had his fingers on her keyboard. "There's got to be a report out by now."

"Officer Rick Grimes," she recited from memory. He'd been consuming her thoughts quite a bit this week.

"Rick Grimes," Glenn dragged the syllables out as he typed. "Whoa, I got a lot of hits. Tons of news stories. No social media though…" Glenn began to click around.

Michonne didn't bother to tell him that she'd already done her research. 9 months ago, Officer Rick Grimes had taken a bullet fired from an AK-47 to the left side of his head. It had entered through the front, traveling the length of his left hemisphere and exiting cleanly through the back. For 6 months he had lain in a coma, his prognosis bleak. Michonne had seen the tearful interviews with his wife. Even Officer Shane Walsh had made more than a few appearances, pleading for prayers for his oldest friend. It was a miracle that he had woken up. It was an even bigger miracle that he didn't have brain damage. There was a picture on the last article just over three months ago. He was beaming in front of a nurse's station, one arm around his wife, the other around his little boy. Shane Walsh was there as well, his hand resting proudly on his friend's shoulder.

It made her sick. How they had all gotten from that to beating each other in the street, she wasn't sure and she wasn't sure she wanted to know.

"Holy shit," Glenn's quick eyes sped across article after article.

"I know," Michonne said, unwillingly to look at the stories again.

"Is this the guy he was fighting with?" Glenn pointed.

Michonne glanced over. "Yes."

"Wow. Some best friend," the young man sounded disgusted.

"Yeah," Michonne stood up and stretched her legs, "that guy seems like an asshole."

"Says here that they've been suspended until further notice," Glenn read off dutifully. "Sucks. We should help him," Glenn glanced up at her.

"I gave him my card," Michonne told him.

"Of course you did," Glenn seemed satisfied with his research. He stood up to face his boss. "Anyway, I have that custody paperwork you asked for. Did the Peletiers finally settle?"

"It wasn't easy," Michonne pulled her mind away from Rick Grimes and focused on the work at hand. "The husband put up a hell of a fight."

"I thought he didn't care about the daughter," Glenn asked as he straightened out some paperwork on her desk.

"He doesn't. He just wanted to hurt his wife even more than he already had." Michonne snorted in disgust.

"You got her full custody?" Glenn asked raising his hand almost instinctively.

"Obviously," she high-fived him over the desk. "I'm working on pulling together enough evidence for criminal charges."

"You think he abused her?" Glenn rushed over to peruse the files with her.

"I _know_ he did. I gave her Andrea's number." Michonne pushed the paperwork towards him.

"Good move," Glenn seized the files. "Want me to call her?"

"She's already waiting on you," Michonne grinned. "She asked for the best social justice warrior we've got."

"You know I hate that term," but Glenn grinned at her affectionately. "Are you coming out tonight?"

"It's mommy-son time at the Jackson household," she informed him. "I'll have to rain check."

"Well tell Dre I say, 'hello'," Glenn smiled again.

"He misses you," Michonne ruffled the younger man's hair.

"I'll come see you all. It's been a while." Glenn looked slightly ashamed.

"You just worry about yourself, Glenn Rhee," she instructed in her most no-nonsense tone. "We can handle ourselves," she assured him.

"I'll tell Andrea you say, 'hi'," Glenn hugged her briefly, "Have a good weekend!" he shouted before making his exit.

Michonne flopped down in her desk chair, eagerly anticipating a reprieve from the week's taxing events. Domestic violence cases always left a bad taste in her mouth, but she was glad her client had been willing to fight. She could help a fighter.

She sighed, glancing over at the time display on her laptop. It was already after 6 on a Friday evening. She needed to get home to her baby. She knew that Sasha was already gone, as was her habit. It was time for Michonne to leave as well.

Her phone ringing stopped her in the process of collecting her things.

"Michonne Jackson," she answered politely, hoping to rush whoever was on the other end off of the phone.

"Miss Jackson," a heavily Southern accented voice responded on the other end. "I thought perhaps I'd get your voicemail." The voice sounded almost bashful.

"Officer Grimes?" she asked, all thoughts of leaving forgotten.

"You've got a good memory." He gave a throaty little chuckle.

"You're a hard one to forget," she smiled into the receiver. She had been praying that he would call for a week. "So officer, what can I help you with?"

88888

Rick Grimes couldn't recall a more hellish week.

His mother always used to say that when it rained it poured. Seemed like life was determined to drown him. His trip to the police station had been painful in every sense of the word. His face and knuckles were throbbing, his skin tight around Hershel's careful stitches. Still, he pulled on his freshly-washed uniform and reported for duty.

You could have heard a pin drop as he came through the doors. Coworkers he had known for years were refusing to meet his eye.

"Is the Captain here?" he asked one such officer after a few moments of intense silence. He was determined to get this over with.

"Yeah. He's…he's meeting with Walsh now." The officer practically fled after forcing out the sentence.

Damn. So Shane had beaten him. No surprise there. Shane was always beating him, at sports, at picking up girls, at growing facial hair, at sparring at police academy. Only made sense he kept up the trend. Still, Rick steeled his reserve, ignored the pain shooting through his body, and marched into his boss' office.

The sight of Shane, face swollen and purple like an overripe blueberry, lifted his spirits just a bit. That was of course, until their captain spoke.

"Suspended. Without pay." The proclamation was swift and decisive.

"Captain, I—" Rick attempted to defend himself.

"No excuses, Grimes. You've gone viral," Captain Horvath spun his archaic computer monitor around to show shaky YouTube footage of their fight. "Do you know what this looks like for the department?"

Rick thought it best to keep silent. Apparently, Shane did too. His former friend scowled, but said nothing.

"Oh _now_ you two want to keep quiet. Where the hell was that common sense when you decided to air your dirty laundry in the street?" The Captain stood up, staring them down. "There's going to be an investigation. You two have disgraced the department. Your little spat is on every blog across the country." Horvath kept on talking, gaining steam as he railed. "We have to take this thing seriously. Which means that you two are going to keep damn quiet until we have a handle on this. I don't want to hear a peep from either of you. I don't even want to see you until the City of Atlanta decides what it wants to do with you clowns. Understood?" The wizened older man glared down at them, as though daring them to disagree.

"We done?" Shane found his voice at last.

"We're done. Leave your guns on the desk." The captain gestured. "You'll hear from me soon."

Shane wasted no time in unbuckling his holster. He slammed on the desk with unnecessary force.

"You and me, we need to talk, man," he addressed Rick.

"You can do that after," Horvath cut him off. "I'm not done with Grimes yet."

Rick struggled to keep his face impassive as his partner stomped out of the office. He turned his eyes back to Horvath, determined to take his reaming like a man.

"Are you ok, Grimes?" whatever Rick had been expecting, this was not it.

Rick sat gaping at him, trying to decide what to say. It did not deter Horvath from continuing.

"I heard what Walsh did. Despicable." The captain shook his head, glaring through the door where Shane had just disappeared. "I would have broken his nose too. He's lucky you didn't shoot him." Horvath brought his eyes back to Rick. "I've been told to suspend you both, but just know, Grimes, I'm working on getting you reinstated. People haven't forgotten the sacrifice you made. You've got more than just me in your corner." He fixed his steel gaze on Rick.

Rick could think of nothing to say. Nervously, he licked his lips, searching for words.

"Have you talked to Carl?" his captain asked him.

"No. I'm going to go. After this…" Rick turned his head around to glance through the tiny door window. Shane was leaning on his desk, waiting for him.

"Listen, don't punch him again," Horvath seemed to read Rick's thoughts. "Keep your nose clean. Your service record speaks for itself. Do you have a lawyer?"

"Uh…" vaguely Rick recalled the wrinkled business card back at the hotel. "I'm working on it."

"Get your shit straight, Grimes," Horvath instructed. "We'll figure this job thing out."

"Thanks, Captain," Rick stood up.

"Grimes, your gun," Horvath nodded towards his desk.

"Oh right," Rick's bruised knuckles made removing his belt a chore, but her got it off.

"Call me when you've got a lawyer," Horvath dismissed him.

Rick made his way back out. He couldn't think of a person he wanted to talk to less, but Shane was still waiting for him.

"What do you want?" Rick couldn't quite keep the malice out of his tone. He set about gathering belongings from his desk, tossing them haphazardly into a box.

"Rick, you know we need to talk," Shane cornered him, arms folded.

"Did plenty of that yesterday, friend," if Rick could have poured poison into the words, he would have.

"Lori told me you came home last night…" Shane began. Rick saw red.

"To _my_ fucking house, yeah." Rick spun on him. "You stay out of there."

"I think that's up to Lori," Shane raised an eyebrow. Rick clenched his fist.

"I don't give a fuck what shit you all get up to, but when Carl's in the house, you better fucking not be," Rick practically growled.

"Look, we can be adults about this," Shane held up his palms.

"Shut the fuck up, Shane. If you even step foot on the front stairs while my son is there, I'll do more than break your nose." Rick seized his box and pushed past him.

Ignoring Shane's retort, Rick stormed out to the parking lot and threw his belongings into his car. It was just after noon. He knew he should go see Hershel, or at least set himself up in a better hotel. Instead, Rick steered his car towards Carl's school anyway. He needed to see his son.

"Dad?" Carl's little voice was confused as he walked into the office. "Is everything ok?" Carl took in his father's bruised face and paled.

"I gotta talk to you, son," Rick did his best to smile. "Let's go for a drive."

Carl dutifully climbed into the front seat of Rick's pickup truck and looked at his father expectantly.

"What happened to your face?" he asked quietly.

Rick took a deep breath. "I got into a fight at work. That's not what I want to talk about."

"You didn't come home last night," Carl seemed on the verge of tears.

"I did, just for a little while. I didn't want to wake you up," Rick was frantically scanning his mind for the right words to tell his 8-year old son.

"Did you and mom have a fight?" Carl's eyes were fixed on the dashboard.

"More of a talk," Rick exhaled. "We're not going to be living together anymore, Carl. Me and your mom."

The tears did come now, hot and thick. Rick reached for his son's shoulders. There had been a time where Rick could cover his whole back with just one hand. His son was bigger now, but still his baby. His heart broke all over again watching him cry.

"Why?" the question squeaked out in between wet sobs.

"We're just not getting along anymore," Rick attempted to explain.

Carl began to shake his head. "You haven't fought since you woke up! You guys are getting better!" his proclamation dissolved back into tears.

"I thought so too…but your mom," Rick cut himself off. "We just think it would be better if we lived in different houses."

"I don't want you to move," Carl put his head down into his arms.

"I don't want to leave either—"

"Then fight!" Carl's dry sob ricocheted off of the interior of the car. "Don't let mom decide."

"I tried, Carl. But your mom doesn't want me to fight for her anymore," Rick was fighting to keep his own eyes dry. "But I will always fight for you. Carl look at me," Rick tilted his son's face up to look at him. "We are going to see other all the time. I'm going to get a place nearby. You can come by any time. You're going to see me so much that you're going to be sick of me."

Carl let out a wet chuckle. "Ok."

"Ok," Rick confirmed. "So let's hang out now."

"You don't have work?" Carl asked, wiping his face on the back of his sleeve.

"Nope." Rick started the truck. "You and me are going to go get ice cream."

"In the fall?" Carl laughed.

"We'll get hot fudge," Rick assured him, pulling out of the school's driveway.

The sun had set by the time he dropped his son back off at home. He walked him up the path to the door. Lori met them there.

Carl's mood instantly darkened, "Hi mom," he greeted morosely.

"Go on inside, baby," Lori's warm tone didn't quite meet her eyes.

"I'll see you in there," Rick still needed to get his clothing. Carl smiled and nodded, moving into the house. The minute Carl disappeared behind the door, she laid into Rick.

"You pulled him out of school?!" she hissed, arms folded across her chest.

"I needed to talk to him. We went and got ice cream." Rick was in no mood to argue with her within earshot of their son.

"You don't think that's something we should have done together?" she furiously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"I think you gave up the right to make couple's decisions when you started screwing my best friend," Rick walked around her and into the house.

"Where are you even living now?" she followed him.

"I got something lined up." He wasn't about to discuss this with her.

"Shane said you got suspended without pay." She stalked him into their bedroom. Rick rolled his eyes and headed for the closet, intending to fill a suitcase with his clothes.

"Gotta be scary, losing both of your meal tickets," he said sarcastically. Rick started tossing his belongings into their vacation suitcase.

"That's real mature," Lori sat down on the bed, looking for all the world like a pouting child.

"I don't think you're in any position to be judging anyone's behavior, Lori," Rick punctuated his statement by dumping all of his toiletries into the bag.

"You can't just be taking our son without me knowing where you're taking him," Lori stood up and blocked him from continuing.

"Fine. I'll call you next time," Rick just wanted to get out of here. His head was beginning to throb.

"I don't think I want you taking him at all," Lori rushed the sentence out.

"What?" Rick kicked the dresser shut with a resounding clank. Lori jumped.

"You don't have anywhere to stay. It's not good for a boy his age. He needs stability." Lori couldn't quite meet his eyes.

"So what, you and Shane going to raise him? Shack up, play house?" Rick began slamming things into his suitcase. "You don't know that man like I do. He doesn't know the first thing about having a family."

"He did all right when you were gone," Lori snapped.

"If you think you're going to take my son, you better get ready for a fight," Rick zipped the case shut.

"Rick, it doesn't have to be like this…" Lori's tone changed again.

"It does. _You_ made it like this. You should see what you did to your son," Rick pointed in the direction of Carl's room.

"What did you tell him?" Lori was all at once alarmed.

"That I'm moving out," Rick said shortly. He walked out with his belongings, Lori trailing after him.

"Where can I find you?" she asked him. "If Carl asks."

"I'll have my lawyer call yours," Rick ended the conversation.

88888

"Have you gotten a lawyer yet?" Hershel asked him a few days later. He was pulling the stitches one by one out of Rick's head.

"I don't know how I'm going to afford one," Rick admitted. He had debt out the ass, and no income coming in.

"Maggie found this in your laundry," Hershel sat down his tweezers and retrieved a wrinkled business card from his pocket. "She looked the lawyer up. Seems like she's got a great track record."

"Which means I definitely can't afford her," Rick sighed. Lori's lawyer had already contacted him with a date for a custody hearing.

"Can't hurt to try," Hershel told him. "And you know, we could always help you."

"Hershel, you've got enough on your hands. I'm not going to ask you for money."

"You don't have to," the older man assured him. "I could use some help around here. These legs aren't what they used to be," Hershel patted his lap with a chuckle. "Maggie's too old to want to be around all the time and Beth is studying for her SATs. I would much appreciate you moving in. Need someone to wrangle all the animals around this place."

Rick laughed. "You are getting old," he told his friend.

"And you're getting a smart mouth," Hershel warned. "Go get your stuff from that shady motel. And call that lawyer." Hershel finished his work. With a little nod, he moved off, leaving Rick sitting at the kitchen table, turning that card between his fingers.

With a sigh, Rick entered the number into his cell phone. It was after quitting time. He'd just leave a message. It couldn't hurt.

"Michonne Jackson," the voice of the woman in the orange dress nearly made him jump out of his skin.

"Uh….Miss Jackson," Rick nearly choked on his words. He didn't know what to say in this situation.

"Officer Grimes?" the woman on the other end identified him readily. He was impressed and a bit embarrassed.

"You've got a good memory." Mentally, he kicked himself for laughing. There was nothing funny about the situation.

"You're a hard one to forget," the lawyer sounded almost like she wanted to laugh too. He couldn't blame her. "So, officer, what can I help you with?"

Rick took a deep breath, "I think it's better if we talk in person. Should I make an appointment?"

"Is this a family matter or something else?" she asked.

"To be honest, might be a little bit of both," Rick tapped his fingers on the tabletop. "I could understand if you don't want to get involved—"

"I have an opening Monday at 10," she told him.

"Uh, ok. I'll be there." He wished he sounded more put together.

"Bring any information you might think I need to know," she instructed in a pleasant tone. "I'll see you Monday."

"So?" Hershel was smiling at him from the kitchen doorway.

"What do you wear to meet a lawyer?" Rick asked him.

"I've got a few suggestions." Hershel's grin widened. "But first, you need to move in."

"Done." Rick followed him out, leaving his cellphone sitting next to the business card on the table.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you so much for all of the amazing feedback! Please continue to let me know what you think**

* * *

Rick fidgeted with his tie in the parking lot of the Law Office of Harrison and Jones. He'd had plenty of experience with lawyers in his 13 years as a police officer, but it was surreal to be on the other side of the law. He inspected his reflection in the rearview mirror of his truck. His face was no longer swollen, but it was a nasty shade of yellow green around the cuts and bruises. Shaving had proved too painful over the last week and a half. As a result, he had a healthy crop of salt and pepper beard sprouting up.

"You look like the walking dead," he muttered to himself critically.

Sighing, he turned to look out of his truck window. Last time he had been here, he hadn't much bothered to take in his surroundings. It occurred to him now what a terrible place he had selected to pull over after he had seen Shane's phone. His partner had been texting almost nonstop all day. It was nothing new; Shane had a near constant rolodex of women, but this one seemed to be absorbing more time.

"So, are you going to tell me who the mystery girl is?" Rick had asked him jokingly. There was nothing Shane loved more than to tell him about his conquests.

"Ain't no mystery girl," Shane had glanced over at him with that cocky little smirk. He'd been wearing damn near the same facial expression since he turned 13 and started getting body hair. Rick had been a late bloomer, but Shane had peaked early. As a teenager, he used to pull older women with a finesse Rick had once envied.

"So who're you texting, your mother?" Rick had kept right on teasing. It had felt good to have this easy camaraderie back.

"Why you so nosy, man?" Shane had clicked his tongue as though he were irritated.

"Oh, you're keeping secrets now?" Rick had meant it as a joke, but Shane was immediately on guard.

"You accusing me of something, Grimes?" Shane's voice had been rife with displeasure.

"No, just messing around," Rick had attempted to smooth the situation over when he saw it. Lori's number, blinking up from Shane's phone. "Are you texting my wife?" he'd asked incredulously, waiting for the punchline.

It never came. Next thing he knew, he was pulling the car over, hopping out and airing his dirty laundry. It wasn't his finest moment.

From his current vantage point he realized he could not have picked a worse spot. Buildings on all four corners had a clear view. It was easy to see why so many people had gotten a video. Rick stepped out of his truck, glancing up at the imposing law building before him. He wondered if the lawyer had seen him from her office window, if she could hear everything that had been said.

"Hey!" a shout turned Rick's attention behind him.

A burly redheaded man with a handle bar mustache was thundering out of the deli across the street looking all too excited.

"You came back," he observed, drying his hands on his apron. "Didn't think I'd be seeing your face again after that show you put on a few weeks back."

"Uh…" Rick was at a loss for words. It appeared he had a fan.

"You going to the law building," the big man took in his appearance.

"Yeah, got an appointment." Rick didn't know why he was even bothering to talk to this guy.

"Tell Sasha I say, 'what's up'," he instructed with an upward nod of the head.

"All right," Rick quickly made his way towards the building. He didn't want anyone else to recognize him.

He sighed in relief as he passed through the warmth of the doors, removing his leather jacket and slinging it over one arm. It wasn't even mid-October, but winter was coming early this year to Atlanta. He missed the warm Georgia summers already. His eyes fell on the building directory and he scanned for Michonne Jackson's office. The elevator arrived silently to shuttle him to the fourth floor. His nerves kicked in as he rode seamlessly up, wondering what he would even say to this woman. He had some paperwork with him, a copy of his marriage certificate retrieved from the courthouse, and the last few years' taxes. He didn't know what you were supposed to bring when you divorced your wife; he'd never thought he'd be doing it.

"Good morning," he was met at the desk near the elevator by a young-looking Asian guy. "Do you have an appointment?"

"10 I think. With…Miss Jackson?" Rick's nerves were worsening.

The Asian man looked up at him, recognition dawning in his eyes. "She's expecting you," he informed Rick with a smile. "We're glad you called us." He stood up quickly. "I'm Glenn Rhee. You'll be seeing a lot more of me," he held out a hand.

"Rick Grimes," Rick shook it, thankful for this man's easy going demeanor. Kindness seemed to come easily to Glenn Rhee.

"I'm Michonne—Miss Jackson's paralegal," Glenn explained as he guided Rick down a hallway. "She's a phenomenal lawyer. You made a great choice." He pushed open the door in front of them. "You're 10 is here," he called in through the doorway.

"At 9:45?" a woman's voice sounded pleasantly surprised. "I do love punctuality."

The door pulled open wider to reveal the woman in orange, now all decked out in navy blue. The color made quite the impression when juxtaposed with her dark brown skin. Her thick, curly hair was cropped short to her head, rising off a few inches in a mound of well-oiled spirals. Her serious demeanor melted instantly as she smiled. She was a head turner, of that Rick was sure. Even with blood in his eyes he had noticed her. He was glad Hershel had made him dress nicely.

"Officer Grimes," she announced pleasantly, looking as though she had just seen an old friend. "I am so glad you could make it."

"That's what I said," Glenn chirped in.

"Your ears must have been burning all last week," she smiled, gesturing for him to come in. "We were talking about you."

"You weren't the only ones," Rick swallowed his discomfort and remembered his manners. "Thank you so much for agreeing to see me."

"My pleasure," her smile lit up again. "Glenn, I'll see you at our 11:30?" it was a dismissal, but the politest one Rick had ever seen.

"Andrea and I have some great things to go over with you," Glenn continued beaming. With a wave, he left the room, shutting the door snugly behind him.

"Please, Officer Grimes, have a seat," she gestured to an overstuffed office chair in front of her desk. He dropped down on it, fidgeting with the folder in his hands.

"Thank you, kindly," his heart was thumping so loudly behind his rib cage that he was sure she could hear it.

"I hope you don't mind if I sit next to you," she deposited herself gracefully in the chair besides his, her legs crossed at the ankle. "Meetings across a desk are so impersonal," she opened the cover of her tablet and looked at him expectantly.

"No…I don't mind," he stammered.

"Good," she smiled again.

An enormous silence stretched between them. She was regarding him coolly, as if she did this every day. She probably did. The thought calmed him a bit. Marriages were going to hell all over Atlanta. His situation was nothing new.

"So, I'm not sure how to really go about this, Miss Jackson," he began.

"Please call me Michonne, Officer Grimes."

"Call me Rick," he hazarded a smile.

"Well, Rick. That's why people hire me," she stretched her legs in front of her. "Tell me a little about your situation."

He had to laugh. "I think something like 300 thousand people in the country have seen my situation."

Michonne did not smile. "But what is the story behind it?" she asked calmly.

Rick swallowed thickly. "I've known Shane since we were 5 years old. I've known Lori since we were 13. We started dating in high school. Got married young. Too young, maybe," he admitted.

"Any kids?" she asked.

"Just one," Rick brightened a bit. "My son, Carl."

"He's how old?"

"About to turn 9."

Michonne smiled. "I have a son too. He's 5."

"That's a good age," he remembered the days before Carl was in school, when all he had wanted to do was spend time with his dad.

"It is," Michonne's smile widened.

"I don't want this to…ruin him," Rick admitted. "Whatever happens between his mom and me…or between his mom and Shane…"

"Well, that can be tricky, Rick," Michonne leaned forward. "What does your son know?"

"Just that we had been fighting for a while. But then I was shot," Rick paused and licked his lips, "When I came out, it seemed like a miracle. Seemed like even Lori loved me again."

"It was a miracle," Michonne told him. "I read the articles."

"All of it except the Lori loving me thing. She and my best friend started…whatever they started while I was in the hospital. Seems like they have no plans on stopping."

"And have you talked to her? Lori?" Michonne continued her calm line of questioning. She would have made on hell of a cop.

"She wants full custody," Rick said.

"And what do you want?" Michonne asked.

"Honestly, I don't even want Carl in the house with Shane." Rick was disgusted by the very idea. "He's his godfather, you know."

Michonne raised an eyebrow. "So would you like to push for sole custody yourself?"

Rick considered the idea. "Nah, I couldn't do that to Carl. But I do want to see him. Maybe get him during the week and his mom on the weekends?"

Michonne nodded, the hint of a smile on her lips. "Well then, Rick. We have some work to do."

A pang of uncertainty hit him. "To be honest, Miss…Michonne, I'm not even sure I can afford you," he took a glance around the tastefully furnished office.

"Well you're in luck, Rick." She leaned back in her chair. "It's the policy of Harrison and Jones for their lawyers to conduct a certain amount of pro-bono work every year."

"I couldn't possibly—" she held up a hand to silence him.

"I assure you, Rick, you will be doing me a favor."

"Are you sure?" he asked, dumbfounded.

"I do not hand my business card to people I am unsure about. You say you want your son, we will make sure that you have him."

"Ok," the first prickling of hope that Rick had felt in a week and a half began to nudge at his heart.

"Forgive me for saying so, but many of the cards are stacked in your corner." Michonne touched her tablet, illuminating a list. "You have an exemplary service record with Atlanta PD, and even before in your home town, your record is clean. Then there was the accident last year…"

"It wasn't an accident," Rick interrupted. "A man shot me point blank."

"Forgive me," wide brown eyes found his apologetically. "After your injury last year…I don't see how a judge couldn't be sympathetic to your cause." She smiled, as though to let him know she wasn't pitying him. "There is however, the issue of the viral video."

Rick could not keep the blush out of his cheeks. "It got me suspended."

She nodded. "It also clearly shows you taking the first swing."

"Is that a problem?" he asked nervously.

"Could be. What we need are character references, preferably coworkers."

"My captain would probably do it," Rick said.

"Perfect," she smiled again. "Ask him for a written character statement. We will have to schedule a hearing…"

"Lori already has one," Rick cleared his throat. "I got this in the mail," he passed over a summons from her lawyer.

"Hmmm," Michonne murmured low in her throat, a warm sound, her face betraying nothing.

"Very well. This is set a week from tomorrow," she handed the paper back.

"What do I need to do?" he asked, nerves jumping.

"It is just a preliminary hearing, to discuss what the best current situation would be for your son. Do you have a residence that you are staying at?"

"An old friend has a farm just outside of the city. He said I can stay there." Relief flooded him. Hershel always managed to take care of him.

"Good, your income right now will be a concern. We have to work on getting you reinstated. Has your partner filed charges?"

"What?" the thought hadn't even occurred to Rick.

"He may," Michonne warned, "I can prepare a counter-suit just in case. You will need to appear stable, capable, and compliant with all of the judge's recommendations." She cautioned.

"Ok," he agreed.

"I would advise you to not talk more with your estranged wife than necessary for your son, and to avoid contact with Mr. Shane Walsh all together."

"Done," he agreed readily.

"If that bruising doesn't disappear, I might ask you to wear makeup," she continued.

Rick paled, but nodded. "If it gets me Carl, I'll do it."

"And you'll need to shave," she informed him apologetically. "I know it's almost winter time, but beards don't play very well with judges, especially if we are hiding bruises."

Rick chuckled. "I'll be smooth as a baby's bottom."

"If it's all right with you, I'd like to meet once more before the hearing. If possible, with Carl?"

"Uh…sure. I'll have to talk to Lori…"

"Could we meet outside of the office? Somewhere public?"

"Yeah," Rick nodded. "Let me just figure out a time. What works for you?"

"You are the client, you tell me what works," She smiled again.

"All right. I'll call you." Rick nodded, feeling bolstered.

"So just to go over the check list again…" she prompted.

"Uh…get a statement from my captain, be polite to Lori, don't talk to Shane, get my job back, and shave," he rattled off.

"And call me," she added one more thing.

"And call you," he confirmed.

"Then we are all set, for now. We can discuss more in a few days' time." She stood up in one smooth motion.

"Thank you," he stood as well, feeling like a huge weight had been lifted. "Thank you so much," he would have hugged her if he thought it appropriate.

"You are very welcome, Rick," she walked him to the office door. "I look forward to your call."

She opened the door to the hallway to reveal her assistant, Glenn, chatting with a vaguely familiar black woman sporting shoulder length kinky curls.

"Michonne," she greeted cheerfully, her white teeth gleaming behind cherry red lips.

"Rick," she gestured to him then the woman. "This is Sasha Williams, Sasha, this is—"

"Officer Rick Grimes," Sasha finished, already reaching to shake his hand. "We're glad you called."

"That's what I said," Glenn repeated with a grin.

"Nice to meet you," he shook the proffered hand, "This may sound odd, but some big guy across the street asked me to say hello to you."

Sasha rolled her eyes. "Abe," she scoffed. "He doesn't know when to quit."

"I'll walk you to the door," Glenn offered. "Keep anymore deli guys off of you."

"Thank you," Rick nodded at the three of them. "I'll talk to you later, Michonne."

He returned to his car feeling immeasurably better than he did upon arrival. He waved at the ginger-mustached deli worker as he pulled off, bee-lining for Hershel's home.

88888

Saturday dawned bright and early for Michonne Jackson. Autumn meant later sunrises, but it did not matter to her what time the sun came up. Every morning at 6:30 am on the dot, she woke up and started her routine. She jumped straight out of her pajamas and into her workout clothes. 30 minutes of weight training was followed by an additional half hour of cardio on the living room treadmill. By 7:45 am, she was showered and stuffed into her robe. While her hair dried she got breakfast started and by 8 am, Andre was sitting at the kitchen table.

It had been their tried and true morning routine now for two years. Andre led them dutifully in the blessing before they dug in: pancakes and bacon, the same way it had been every Saturday since he was 3 years old. Saturdays were reserved for mother and son.

"What adventure are we having today, momma?" Andre sipped his juice and regarded her through wide brown eyes she recognized from her own reflection.

"We are going to meet a friend of mine," she passed him a napkin to mop up the juice dribbling down his chin.

"On a Saturday?" his eyes widened in delighted surprise.

"Guess what?" she nodded, smiling widely.

"What?" he asked interestedly, all ears now.

"My friend has a son," she told him, delighting in how his whole face lit up.

"How old is he?" Andre was practically bouncing now in his chair now.

"8!" Michonne punctuated this statement with a flamboyant hand motion. Andre began to laugh.

"When do we go?" his feet were already sliding towards the ground.

"Uh-uh," she shook a finger. "What are the rules?"

"Food first," he sighed.

"Then?"

"Clean up the kitchen," Andre began to shovel food onto his fork. "Then clean up myself!" he anticipated her next question with a smirk.

"Smarty-pants," she teased, watching him spoon pancake into his mouth at an alarming speed. "Slow down there, speedy," she warned, already moving to clean the table.

By 9:30 they were both dressed, Andre in his striped hoodie, jeans and beanie and Michonne in her brown cashmere sweater, gray pants and knee high boots.

"Bye dad!" Andre shouted cheerfully, waving towards the mantle place. A framed picture of a handsome, dark skinned man sat framed prominently.

"Bye Mike," Michonne followed her son's lead, waving at the picture before locking up.

"Where are we going?" Andre continued his excited line of questioning from his booster seat. He was practically squirming.

"It's a surprise, Dre," she smiled at him in the rearview mirror.

"What's your friend's name?"

"Officer Grimes," she told him.

"Officer? What's that?"

"Like a police officer," she glanced up at the signs, double checking that she was taking the right exit.

"Ohhh…" Dre became temporarily distracted by something outside of the window. "So we call him Officer Grimes?"

" _You_ do," she instructed.

"What do you call him?"

"None of your business," she teased, sticking her tongue out.

Andre dissolved into a fit of giggles. Michonne merged out of traffic and into a line of cars heading for her destination. It took a few moments for the building to come into view, but once Andre saw it, he let out an elated squeal.

"The Aquarium!" the sound could have broken glass.

There was no mistaking the distinct angles and glass walls of the Georgia Aquarium. Michonne had planned on waiting until Andre was older to bring him here, but when Rick called asking if they could meet, she could find no reason to refuse him. 5 years old was more than old enough to remember the trip, and she had no excuse to delay it anymore.

"Are you ready?" she paid for parking and steered her Honda Civic into a tight spot.

Andre practically dragged her through the parking lot and to the entrance. They were ten minutes early, but Rick Grimes was already leaning near the ticket booth, chatting with a miniature version of himself wearing an over-large sheriff's hat. She was pleased to see that the bruising was beginning to fade, despite the stublle still dusting his cheeks. By Monday, they might not even need to cover them up. He was dressed in his leather jacket from the other day, the hint of a blue button down collar sticking up from behind it. It did not hurt at all that he possessed a charming air of boyish handsomeness. A judge would find him relatable.

"Miss Jackson," he straightened up in his leather jacket to greet her. "Thank you for meeting me."

"Good morning, Officer Grimes," she smiled at him.

"Who's this?" he asked on a smile, glancing down at Andre.

"This is Andre Anthony," she introduced.

"And this is Carl," he nudged his own son forward.

"Lovely hat, Carl," Michonne told the young boy. He looked a great deal like his father, but sandy brown curls were chestnut waves on his son, and there was a band of adorable cinnamon colored freckles across his cheeks.

"It's my dad's," Carl told her. "From before we moved here. It doesn't really fit though," Carl shook his head to demonstrate how it flopped over his eyes.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Rick prompted. Carl blushed.

"Pleasure to meet you, ma'am," Carl bashfully shook her hand.

"Good grip," she complimented. "And such good manners."

"Hello sir," Andre stepped up, determined to prove he had good manners too.

"Hey there, little man," Rick squatted down to shake his hand. "Carl, do you mind looking out for Andre today?"

"No," Carl looked thrilled by the prospect. Without preamble, he reached out for Andre's hand. "My dad got tickets already. Have you ever seen a whale shark?"

"Rick, you didn't need to—" Michonne took advantage of their children's chattering to address the other adult. Tickets to this attraction were not at all cheap.

"Michonne, it's the least I can do," he told her in no uncertain terms as he brandished the four tickets with a flourish. "So, have you ever seen a whale shark?" he repeated his son's question.

"No, I have not," she answered with a grin, following the three boys in through the doors.

The next few hours were a pleasurable experience of tailing both of their excited sons around, looking at all kinds of aquatic animals.

"So," Rick began as they paused in front of beluga whales, "How have you been?"

"Hey now," she objected. "I'm supposed to be asking the questions."

He chuckled. "Sorry, old habits," he apologized.

"No problem, officer." She waved at her son who was yelling delightedly about whales. "How have _you_ been?"

"To be honest, this is the calmest it's been all week. Took a hell of an effort just to get Lori to let me take Carl." Rick ran his fingers through his curly hair. Michonne noticed one obviously pale stripe of skin on his left hand ring finger.

"Why is she so opposed to you spending time with him?" she questioned.

"She says it's because I'm not settled, but part of me thinks it's just plain spite. Maybe she's afraid I'll tell him something, or maybe Shane is in her ear…" Rick broke away to tell Carl not to bang on the glass.

"So she's angry," Michonne walked leisurely along the path, her eyes trained on their children. "Why?"

"Hell if I know," Rick scoffed. "You'd think I did something to her."

"Maybe it's just guilt. It's a lot easier to focus on being angry than to focus on what she's done," Michonne observed.

"You're a psychiatrist now too? No wonder you come so highly recommended." Rick let out a little laugh.

"I just have some experience with these things," she chuckled. "I've seen a lot."

"Anything as bad as me?" he asked without meeting her eyes.

"I've seen all kinds of shit, if you'll pardon my language. But it warms my heart to see a father who loves his son. That's more than a lot of people can say."

"I always figured that me and Lori were a team," he admitted. "Even if we're not together anymore, we still have Carl. But she doesn't even want me part of that anymore." He sighed heavily, pausing behind their children as they squealed over the otters.

"I think she'll see reason sooner rather than later. And if she doesn't, I'll handle it," Michonne told him.

"You'll handle it?" Rick raised an eyebrow.

"It's my job," Michonne's eyes followed their children.

"You're a little scary," Rick told her. When she reacted with surprise, he held up his hands. "It's a good thing. Lori _thinks_ she's scary."

"What about Shane?" she had to ask.

Rick visibly tensed up. "What about him?"

"Is _he_ scary?" she needed an answer. That look in his eyes during the fight had set her on guard.

"A month ago, I would have told you no," Rick admitted.

"And now?"

"He hates me. I'm not sure what happened." Rick looked exhausted by the whole thing.

Michonne suspected what had happened was jealousy, but she didn't think it was her place to say anything. "He has no legal rights to Carl."

"But he's gotta be in Lori's ear. I haven't ever seen her like this. She's so…spiteful." Rick double checked to make sure his son couldn't hear. "I'm trying to keep it all from Carl."

"Has he seen the video?" she asked.

"Not that I know of. He doesn't have a phone and his computer access is pretty limited." Rick worried his brows together.

"What will you tell him if he sees it?" Michonne needed him to think about these things.

"I guess it'll have to be the truth," Rick sighed.

Michonne nodded. "Rick, I'm going to do whatever I can to make sure this goes smoothly. The divorce should go quickly. She doesn't have a case there. As for child support and alimony—"

"Shit," Rick looked like the thought had just occurred to him.

"When a marriage ends in infidelity, the perpetrator doesn't have much of a leg to stand on there. She's a stay at home mom?"

"For the last five years, yeah. She used to work at the grocery store."

Michonne processed this. "Then there may be some child support payments. Perhaps not, if we can work out a custody agreement with her side."

"The money ain't the issue," Rick's southern accent came out swinging. "I want what's best for Carl. And that's both of us." He glanced at his son. "Or it used to be, at least."

"It gets easier," she told him. "You're in the hardest part."

"You're divorced?" he asked her.

"Um…" Michonne felt her face flush. She thanked God that her dark complexion hid it. "Not divorced."

"I'm sorry," Rick was all old southern manners at once. "I just assumed. No ring, and Andre's father…"

"Widowed," she told him.

"I am so sorry," Rick looked for a moment like he wanted to touch her, but thought better of it.

"It's all right. It's been two years now." She mustered a smile. "Like I said, it gets better."

Rick swallowed hard. "You think I'm cut out for this?"

"For what?" she wasn't following him.

"For this single parent thing. If Lori never shapes up—"

"You'll be surprised the strength you can find in yourself when it comes to your kid. I think you two will be more than fine."

Rick exhaled. "So what's the plan?"

"So serious," Michonne moved quickly to lighten the mood as Andre ran towards her, tugging Carl behind him. "I thought you were going to show us a whale shark."

"We did promise them that," Rick smiled down at his son. "You want to lead the way, Carl?"

88888

"Guess what my favorite part was, momma," Andre was back in his pajamas, fighting to stay awake after a long day.

"Um…." Michonne indulged him, pretending to give it some serious thought, "the food court?"

"No!" he dragged the single syllable out as though he couldn't believe how silly she was. "I liked when Carl and me go to pet the dolphins," He pulled the covers up to his chin. His little legs didn't even come halfway down the twin bed.

Michonne grinned at him. "I think Carl liked that too," she told him, preparing to turn off the light.

"Will I see Carl again?" Andre asked. Michonne felt a pang of guilt. Outside of daycare, Andre did not get to hang out with a lot of other children. She had always been enough for him, until now.

"Maybe, Dre. I'll ask Officer Grimes," she kissed his forehead.

"I like him. I like Carl too." Andre yawned, his eyes already closed.

"I like them too," Michonne assured him. She had plans to spend the rest of the night reviewing their case. They would go into the hearing prepared. Rick had done everything she had asked. Hopefully, the judge would be reasonable.

"Good night, momma," Andre whispered. "Love you."

"Love you too, baby," Michonne turned off the light.

Later, as she prepared for bed, Michonne sent Rick a text.

"Thank you again for the tickets. Andre loves Carl."

She set her phone down while she pulled back the covers. By the time she was in bed, the screen was lighting up.

"Our pleasure. :)" Rick's response winked up at her.

"I didn't take you for an emoji man," Michonne had to laugh at the little yellow face.

"Carl taught me." The response came slowly, as though he wasn't quite sure how to do it.

"Smart boy ;)"

"Should I be worried about Tuesday?" this response came quickly.

"Not at all. I'm going to take care of it. Trust me." She wanted to assure him. She was going to fight for Rick and Carl.

"I trust you :)" The smiley face made a reappearance. "Goodnight, Miss Jackson."

"Goodnight, Officer Grimes."

Michonne put her paperwork on the night stand and fell into a restful slumber.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: My goodness, I cannot express to you how much I appreciate all of the feedback and responses to the story so far. Thank you all so much! I love reading your reviews and your commentary. It inspires me to keep going.**

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Rick exhaled heavily, his breath frosting in front of him. Tuesday morning was the coldest of the year so far. Rick's suit jacket was doing little in the way of keeping out the cold breeze. He didn't mind much; his nerves had his blood running hot. He was early, too early, as was his habit. He kept his eyes out on the street, watching not only for Michonne, but also for Lori.

It was easy to be confident around his lawyer; the woman carried confidence in every fiber of her being. When he got back in the real world, doubt crept in like a sickness. He had felt hopeful quite a few times in the last year, and every time it had gone to hell. Optimism felt like a luxury he could not afford.

"Early again," the voice was like a balm on his nerves. Michonne was crossing the street towards him, wrapped tight in a black pea coat and clutching a leather work bag. She stepped in front of him and openly assessed his appearance. "You clean up nice," she complimented, satisfied with his transformation.

"I had some help," he admitted. Maggie had woken him up at the crack of dawn and shuttled him into the bathroom. He had product in his hair, baby smooth skin and some cologne she'd picked up at Macy's.

"Looks like we won't need the makeup," she told him with a smile.

"Thank God," he was pretty sure he would have sweat through it anyway.

"How are you feeling?" she questioned as they walked, her heeled boots clicking away on the floors of the courthouse.

"Nervous as hell," there was no point in lying.

"Just let me do the talking," she assured him. "You've done your part, now it's my turn." She shrugged out of her jacket and swung it over one well-toned arm. She was dressed in all black, the color as ebony and perfect as her oiled hair. She looked ready to do battle.

"All right," he swallowed thickly.

"We have 20 minutes until the hearing begins. It looks like the judge would like to meet in one of the courtrooms," she glanced at her watch.

"Is that normal?" he was in her element now, and full of questions.

"Not exactly. Your case has probably attracted a little more attention considering the circumstances." She looked unconcerned.

"The video," he'd been kicking himself for that loss of decorum for weeks now.

"Partly," she looked at him, "But the name Officer Rick Grimes was ringing bells before that. It could be a good thing." She smiled at him.

"If you say so," his mind was racing.

"Rick," Michonne came to a full stop, forcing him to turn and face her. "Take a deep breath. Don't let it out yet," she held up a finger.

Rick looked skeptical but humored her.

"You're a good man. This is all going to be fine." Her eyes locked on his, her demeanor serious.

"Ok," he agreed.

"You weren't supposed to exhale yet," her lips quirked.

"Sorry," he took a big breath for dramatic effect, but was feeling calmer already.

"Ok. Go ahead and exhale," she instructed.

He let out the breath. "I'm ready."

"Good," she nodded at him, and pushed the door open.

The room was a sterile beige, the fluorescent light bouncing up off of the peeling linoleum tile. It was divided into two sections like a church ready for a wedding, the judge's bench elevated into the position of an altar.

Michonne swept over to the left side of the room and sat her bag on the table. "Get comfortable," she instructed kindly. Rick sat to her right, watching her busy herself with removing items one by one from her bag. Her tablet came out first, then several old-fashioned files in manila folders. Rick knew that his Captain's character evaluation of him was in one of those folders. It had been awkward to read the glowing praise from his otherwise stoic boss.

"Here," she passed him a mint wrapped in clear plastic, retrieved from a pouch in her bag.

"Thanks mom," he took the candy gratefully, hoping she knew he was joking. She smirked at him before placing one in her own mouth, her lips pursing gently as she organized her papers in front of them on the desk.

"Miss Jackson," a man swept in, dressed in khaki slacks and a gray sweater, his iron gray hair still damp from a shower.

"Judge Ray," she greeted pleasantly.

"You're always early," the apparent judge chuckled. "You're making me look bad."

"Not at all," Michonne stopped rifling with her belongings to smile kindly at the man. "Take your time."

"I'll see you in 15," he shook her hand as he walked by, nodding at Rick.

The moment he left, Michonne went back to studying her papers with calm focus. Rick wished she would talk to him; she had a soothing way about her, but he would be loath to interrupt her process with so much on the line. He checked his watch. Carl was at school already, his day just beginning. He hoped he would have good news for him this afternoon.

The door to the courtroom opened again, grabbing Rick's attention. He spun in his seat and felt his heart drop. Lori was walking in with her lawyer, a stoic looking older man. She was dressed in her church best, a blue number that he knew she liked because it brought out her eyes. She regarded him coldly, as though he were some stranger and not the man she'd promised to be true to in front of God and both of their families.

"Michonne," her lawyer's voice was deep.

"Joe," Michonne looked up to greet him. Rick noticed her tone was far less warm than it had been for the judge.

"Hi Lori," Rick felt that he should at least acknowledge her, but was met with cold silence. If Michonne noticed, her facial expression betrayed nothing. Satisfied at last with her work, the dark-skinned lawyer dropped into the chair next to him, her posture as perfect as usual. Rick straightened up to match her.

The silence spread, saturating the whole room for five minutes that felt like an eternity. The charcoal gray suit that Maggie had picked out felt like it was liable to strangle him. He began to tap his fingers absentmindedly on the table in front of him.

"Could you quit?" Lori broke the silence with a harsh comment, her eyes zeroing in on Rick's fingers like they were personally offending her. Rick tapped twice more for good measure, but flattened his hand out. To his right, he could see Michonne looking at Lori out of the side of her eyes. His lawyer noticed his gaze and gave him a small smile.

"All rise," the bailiff announced the judge ceremoniously. The man from earlier now was garmented in the traditional black robes as he stoically took his seat.

"So," he began, his clever eyes bouncing between the two parties, "What are the grounds for divorce?"

"Infidelity," it was Lori's lawyer who spoke first.

"On the part of the wife," Michonne interceded without emotion.

"And there is one son in question?" Judge Ray inspected a small pile of papers in front of him with interest.

"A boy, Carl Grimes," Michonne announced in a clear voice. "My client is asking that joint custody be granted. We believe it to be within the best interests of all parties."

"And you disagree?" Judge Ray turned to Lori's side.

"We do, your honor," Lori's lawyer piped up in his gravelly voice. "Mr. Grimes—"

"Officer," Michonne interrupted.

Joe threw her a look full of contempt. " _Officer_ Grimes has displayed violent behavior that concerns my client for her son's safety."

Rick's stomach dropped.

"Your honor," Michonne did not give either man any space to respond. "I believe Mrs. Grimes is referring to the incident caught on camera that occurred three weeks ago. This violent reaction was in direct response to Officer Grimes finding out that while he was in a _coma_ , his wife and best friend had begun an affair that they are still carrying on."

"How does Officer Grimes know this?" Judge Ray asked. It felt odd to hear his name brought into conversation so many times without any expectation that he speak. Rick focused on keeping his breathing even and not looking at Lori.

"His partner, Shane Walsh admitted to the affair, even showing my client texts that the two of them had been exchanging for months. What's more, Mrs. Grimes admitted to the affair herself."

"That does not change the fact that his response was to punch the man…" Lori's lawyer began again.

"A reasonable response, all things considered, and one that he has been reprimanded for at work." Michonne silenced him with her sharp comment. "Officer Grimes has an exemplary service record with both the Atlanta PD and the Gainesville Sherriff's Department. He was wounded in action early last year, and suffering in a coma. While his wife and partner paraded in front of the camera looking concerned, they were carrying on an affair behind his back. Even when he came out, Mrs. Grimes allowed him to believe that their marriage was working and that they could try for another child. You can hardly fault him for his reaction once he found out the truth."

"That doesn't excuse his behavior," Lori's lawyer began again.

"No," Michonne admitted, "But it certainly isn't a history of violence. This is the first incident of violent behavior in Officer Grimes' work or personal history."

"That we _know_ of," Joe added.

"Would Mrs. Grimes like to come forth with allegations of abuse?" Michonne questioned seriously.

"No." Lori's answer was quick, her face red.

The court room echoed in silence for a moment as Judge Ray processed this.

"You're asking for joint custody?" the judge questioned Rick's side. Rick nodded, glancing over at Michonne.

"Yes. Officer Grimes simply wants what is best for their son, Carl. He does not wish to deprive the mother of any time with him, but would like to create an arrangement that suits the three of them."

"And this…Officer Shane Walsh," Judge Ray turned his attention to Lori. "He is still in the picture, I presume?"

"Yes," Lori answered again, swallowing thickly.

"How does the father feel about that?" The judge asked Rick.

Michonne looked over at him expectantly.

"I don't like it," Rick's voice cracked a bit, but he cleared his throat and tried again. "Officer Walsh has expressed an animosity towards me that I don't think is good for Carl."

"He has not," Lori piped up.

"Regardless, he has no legal rights to the child," Judge Ray interrupted her. "Officer Grimes, what is your side asking for?"

"Shared custody," Michonne spoke again. "In light of Mrs. Grimes' infidelity, we are asking that there be no alimony, although we are willing to compromise on child support."

"And you?" Judge Ray looked to Lori.

Rick's soon-to-be-ex-wife looked so flabbergasted that Rick almost chuckled out loud. She and her lawyer gaped at one another for a moment, trying to regain their bearings. Rick chanced a glance at Michonne. The corner of her mouth twitched in just the hint of a smile.

"We're willing to compromise, your honor," Joe announced at last.

"Then I suggest that we do temporary shared custody with supervised visits for Mrs. Grimes when Officer Walsh is present."

"I hardly think that's necessary," Lori objected.

"I very much think it is," Judge Ray told her coolly. "I have seen the video of the fight, Mrs. Grimes. While Officer Grimes may have swung first, his partner inflicted far more damage. We can assess a more permanent solution once the divorce is finalized and the situation cools down a bit. For now, Mrs. Grimes you will have your son during the week while he is in school, and Officer Grimes, will have custody on weekends."

Rick could not stop the smile that rushed to his face as wave after wave of relief crashed over him.

"Mrs. Grimes, if I get wind that Officer Walsh is meeting with your son without a supervisor there, I assure you, you will not like my response." Judge Ray cautioned Lori. She was regarding Rick with open animosity. "I'll see you all in three months, once the divorce is finalized. Miss Jackson, Mr. Kober, I will be in touch after I review the case in more detail. Leave your paperwork with my office." He nodded at the lawyers. "You are dismissed."

Rick ignored Lori as she stormed from the courtroom. He figured there would be hell to pay later, but for now, he was floating on the clouds. He glanced at his watch and was surprised to find that the whole thing had taken less than 15 minutes. It had felt like hours.

"You did it," he grinned at Michonne. She was already carefully repacking her work bag.

"I told you not to worry," she smiled at him. "It's not over, but this was a good start."

"A _very_ good start," Rick loosened his tie and bent to help her repack her belongings. He wanted to hug her, he was so happy.

Michonne's smile widened. "You work on getting reinstated, and the rest of this should go even smoother."

He held the door open for her as they left the courtroom. Lori was nowhere to be seen and he did not care. He wanted to rush out and pick up Carl now. It would have to wait until after he was done with school. Maybe he could swing by and get the rest of his belongings from the house.

"We have to work on the details of the divorce now," Michonne drew his thoughts back to the here and now.

"Sure," he nodded, his mind already drifting off.

Michonne let out a little laugh. "It can wait a day or two," she told him, taking in his barely concealed grin. "Go enjoy your day, Rick."

"Thank you." This time Rick did hug her, sweeping her up with both arms and wrinkling the suit Maggie and her sister had taken such care in pressing. Michonne's laughter intensified and she rubbed his back.

"Go," she instructed, shooing him away.

"I'll call you," he promised her, already fiddling with his keys.

"I know you will," she smiled.

The sun was warming up the surrounding air as Rick left the courthouse, shedding his jacket and tie as he walked. He felt warmer than he had in weeks. Maybe he would go home and help Hershel with the horses. He needed to burn off this energy.

Smiling, he started up his truck and headed home.

"That was fast. How'd it go?" Maggie and Beth were waiting in the front yard when his truck pulled up, crunching on the gravel. He had scarcely opened the car door when they set on him.

"Well?" Maggie asked impatiently. Her shoulder length hair was curling in the humidity of the day, her wide hazel eyes watching him expectantly. Beth was peeking out behind her, blonde and pretty and as shy as the day they had met. It was strange seeing Hershel's girls as adults, but Rick enjoyed their company.

Rick opened his mouth, searching for a way to convey his joy.

"It went well, didn't it?" Maggie was already bouncing on the balls of her feet, looking delighted. "I knew it. Didn't I tell you, Beth?" she looked backwards at her little sister.

"Daddy said they couldn't not take your side," Beth agreed, beaming.

"I get Carl on the weekends while the divorce goes through." It felt odd to be so flippant about the notion of divorce. Now that Carl's happiness was somewhat safe guarded, Rick wasn't dreading the actual act of splitting up.

"Carl will be here?" Beth's smile widened.

"I know he'll be happy to see you both." Rick patted them both on the shoulders.

"I'll have to teach him how to properly saddle a horse. He's old enough now," Maggie mused, grinning.

"C'mon," Rick sped up his walk. "Let's go tell Hershel the news."

The girls raced him up to the house. "I'll whip up something special for lunch," Beth told them, panting excitedly. "This is something to celebrate."

"Well?" Hershel was in the front doorway. "Am I to take these smiles as a good sign?"

"Carl will be here on the weekends," Rick confirmed, hugging his old friend.

"Good," Hershel remarked. "It's about time he learned to ride a horse."

"Maggie's way ahead of you on that one," Rick gestured to Hershel's eldest daughter.

As the girls busied themselves with fussing over lunch plans, Hershel took the time to address Rick.

"So what's ahead?" he questioned.

"I still need to hammer out the details of the divorce," Rick admitted. "And a permanent custody agreement. Michonne convinced the judge to make sure Shane is supervised if he's around Carl."

"He's not going to take that well," Hershel mused.

"I don't give a damn how he takes it. He better do it," Rick told him.

"This Michonne Jackson must be quite the lawyer," Hershel observed. "Lori normally gets her way."

"She's so good, it's actually a little bit scary. If I'd have met her in court, I'd think she was the most serious woman on the planet." Rick had to laugh. Michonne had been a force to reckon with.

"She's doing all of this for free?" Hershel shook his head in disbelief. "Nice to know there's still people like her out there."

"It is," Rick agreed.

"A blessing," Hershel added.

"I'm working on some way to thank her. Not sure if I can come up with something big enough." Rick had been turning the idea over in his mind since their first meeting at her office. There was no amount of money to express his gratitude.

"I'm sure between the four of us, we can come up with something," Hershel patted him on the shoulder. "For now, I'd make sure this woman doesn't lift a finger if she doesn't have to."

Maggie approached the table, setting down a bottle of beer in front of each of them. Hershel glanced at her.

"What?" she asked innocently. "It's after noon. And it's a celebration!"

"You should bring her lunch," Beth sat down besides them, smiling timidly. "Miss Jackson, I mean. You should bring her lunch."

"Ladies love lunch," Maggie affirmed, sipping her own beer.

"Then I'll bring her lunch," Rick cheers her, clinking his bottle.

"Ask her right now," Maggie encouraged. "Lawyers have their days all planned out. You better make sure she's free."

"All right," he pulled his phone out, acutely aware of three pairs of eyes watching him.

"May I treat you to lunch tomorrow?" he texted her. "As a thank you?"

He set his phone down on the table. It lit up a few short moments later.

"I have a soft spot for Indian food," Rick read the response out loud.

"I like her already," Maggie announced to no one in particular. Hershel just shook his head.

"I'll never understand this generation. Texting instead of talking..."

"It's the wave of the future, dad," Beth said kindly.

"If you insist," Hershel snorted.

"I'll pick an outfit for you," Maggie told Rick, polishing off her beer.

"Maggie, I appreciate it but-"

"But nothing. I know what works for you."

"It's not a date." Rick recognized that gleam in Maggie's eyes. The girl loved playing matchmaker.

"Of course not," Maggie shrugged. "But you're living with us now. Can't have you walking around all beardy and morose. You never know who might be watching. Dress for success."

Rick chuckled. The last few weeks had not been his best asthetically.

"Fine. But this is the last time."

"Sure it is," Maggie nodded, smirking.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: A thousand thank yous for all of your support and reviews. I love reading your thoughts on the story! Here goes chapter 5...**

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"Which flavor?" Michonne held up two boxes of cereal, brandishing them for her son to see. Andre was seated comfortably in the bright red shopping cart, studying the breakfast foods with intense concentration.

"Blueberry!" he announced at long last, reaching for the box. Michonne tucked the cereal in next to him.

"Should we go pick a costume?" she asked, steering the cart through the aisles with practiced ease.

Andre began to squirm with excitement. "Can I be a superhero?" he asked.

"Sure. Which one?" Michonne navigated out of the food section and pointed her cart towards the Halloween shelves. She probably shouldn't have waited until the day of Halloween to pick a costume for her son, but life had been incredibly busy lately. She and Andrea had been helping their client with a potential criminal case on top of her other duties. Also, Rick Grimes' divorce was proving trickier than she would have thought. Lori Grimes seemed determined to make the process as difficult as possible. For someone who had already moved on to the next man, she was dragging her feet in getting rid of her first one.

"Hulk," Andre announced happily.

"Not Iron Man?" Michonne brought her attention back to her son.

"No!" he stuck his tongue out like the thought disgusted him.

"Well why don't we skip the costume and just paint you green?" she teased.

"I need muscles," Andre insisted.

"Then you should start working out with mommy," they reached the aisles of children's costumes. They were packed with families picking outfits. Most of the shelves were picked clean, but there were a few stragglers hanging haphazardly on a long metal bar.

"There he is!" Andre stood up in the cart to point at the green fabric.

"Good eye," Michonne reached for the costume, rifling through the sizes for a 4T. She was pulling the hangers out one by one when she felt the eerie sensation that she was being watched. She glanced up over the costumes and came eye to eye with Officer Shane Walsh. His dark eyes were glued to hers from up the aisle. Michonne briefly wondered why a grown man with no children was in the children's section.

"What are you going to be, momma?" Andre was blissfully unaware of the situation, his little fingers rustling the fabrics hanging around him.

"Maybe your mom could go as a witch," that familiar southern accent was all too close. Michonne turned around to shoot Shane Walsh a level-headed look.

"Officer Walsh," she greeted evenly, her hands tightening around the handle of her shopping cart.

"Getting the little guy a costume?" Shane turned his eyes on Andre. His nose was still crooked, but the bruising was healing. Dre looked up curiously at him, and then turned his eyes to his mom. Michonne was focusing on not scowling out right.

"Obviously," she said calmly. "What are you doing in the kid's section?" She gave him her full attention, squaring her shoulders.

"Just looking for a friend," he smirked. "Hey there, little man," Shane waved at Andre. Michonne resisted the urge to slap him away.

"Hello…" Dre seemed to sense his mother's displeasure. He sat flat down in the cart and scooted back into the toilet paper.

"So you're Rick's lawyer now, huh?" Shane asked her.

"I represent Officer Grimes, yes," Michonne answered.

"Heard you're a tough cookie in court," he continued. Clearly, she had made an impression on Lori.

"It's my job," she went back to looking for her son's size. She retrieved it and placed it in the cart.

"The Hulk, huh little man?" Shane addressed Andre. "You got a temper?"

"Officer Walsh," Michonne was done with this game. "What do you want?"

"Just saying 'hey' to a friend," he smiled again, his eyes unmoving from her face. "You know, me and Rick are being reinstated in a week or so. 30 day suspension's up."

"That's great news," Michonne wondered why Rick hadn't mentioned it.

"So I guess that means I'm not dangerous," he continued, his eye contact unwavering.

"What?" Michonne's hackles went up.

"That's what Lori said, that y'all decided I was dangerous." Shane crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"Officer Walsh, as you are _not_ related in any way to the child in question, I am not at liberty to discuss the case with you," Michonne kept her voice level. "I suggest you refrain from asking about it. I would also suggest that you return to the adult's section." Michonne was determined to be finished with this conversation. "You have a Happy Halloween," she told him politely.

"I'll be seeing you," Shane assured her. "Don't eat too much candy, kid." He reached out for Dre but Michonne pulled the cart back. Shane's smirk widened. "Take care of yourself," he told her, disappearing around the corner.

"Who was that?" Dre asked her quietly.

"Just a man," she told him, walking quickly towards the checkout counters.

"I didn't like him," Andre announced.

Michonne had to chuckle, "Neither do I."

"Is he mean?" Dre's line of questioning continued.

"Maybe." Michonne didn't want to think too deeply about that.

"Does he know Officer Grimes? They both are police?"

"Did I ever tell you that you are too smart?" she smiled at her son. Andre grinned back.

"Can we go see him? And Carl?" Dre inspected his costume.

Michonne considered this. "I will call him and see what he is doing for Halloween," Michonne told her son. "No promises though, ok? They might be busy."

"Ok," Andre agreed, but his grin widened.

Michonne make record time in paying for their groceries and costumes, walking with long strides towards her car. She gave it a thorough once over before buckling her son into his booster seat. She was trying to stay calm, for Dre's sake, but was shaken more than she would have liked to admit. She fired a text off at Rick before starting her vehicle.

"Ran into your old partner. Can I call you in a bit?"

It took all of her self-control not to reach for her vibrating phone on the drive back home. Andre fell asleep on the ride back, but Michonne watched her mirrors obsessively, half-expecting to see Shane's surly face watching her from one of the cars around her. She breathed a sigh of relief as she reached her gated community, her heart pounding. By the time she allowed herself to look at her phone, she was inside with the doors locked and Andre safely snoozing away on the couch.

"What happened? Did he do something? Call me." Michonne could picture those little worried wrinkles that appeared between Rick's eyebrows when he spoke of Shane. Feeling comforted by the mental image she hit "call" and pressed the phone to her ear.

"Hello?" Rick answered on the second ring. "What happened?

"Nothing serious," Michonne was quick to tell him. "I was buying Andre a Halloween costume. He either followed me into the kid's section or was already there." Constant communication over the last few weeks had negated the need for polite greetings. The two of them now talked nearly every day, in some form or another. Rick had made it a habit to take her to lunch once a week for as long as the divorce proceedings lasted. Michonne had tried to assure him that it was unnecessary, but the man was unmovable.

"Kid's section…" Rick sounded angry. Michonne thought she knew what Rick was thinking.

"I didn't see him buy anything. Maybe he was just looking," she said. The last thing she needed was Rick rushing off and re-breaking Shane's nose.

"Or looking for a bribe for Carl," Rick sounded disgusted. "What did he say to you?"

"It wasn't what he said, but how he said it." Michonne wished she had a better way of explaining it.

"I know what you mean. He intimidates a lot of folks that way," Rick's voice took on an exasperated tone. "Are you ok?"

"Shaken," she admitted. She sat on the couch next to her sleeping son. "I'm wondering if I need to be scared."

"Of Shane?" Rick snorted. "I'll kill him if he tries anything."

"You don't need to get into trouble on his account again. Especially not now. I heard you're getting your job back." Michonne leaned back into the couch cushions.

"Sounds like Shane said quite a lot," Rick observed. "Did he tell you he got moved to another precinct?

"He left that detail out," Michonne felt herself smile a bit.

"I had planned to tell you tomorrow. Where are you now?"

"Me?" Michonne was surprised at the question. "I'm at home with Dre. He's sleeping off all of the excitement."

"Are you trick or treating tonight?" It sounded as though Rick was moving around on the other end.

"Of course. I can't deprive the little guy," Michonne glanced down at her son.

"Do you want me to come by?" he asked.

"Are you going to guard my house?" she asked, touched by the gesture.

Rick laughed. "I have Carl tonight. He's been asking about Andre. Maybe we can tag team tonight."

Michonne considered this. She would feel a lot better not being alone. "Are you ok with that? You aren't sick of me yet?" They had seen a lot of each other these last few weeks.

"Not at all," Rick chuckled again. "Do you have a costume?"

"I can whip something up." Michonne's mind was already wandering to her closet. "What about you?"

"It's a surprise," he told her.

"All right. So I'll see you around 6:30?" she asked.

"Just text me your address," he confirmed. "Don't open the door until I call you."

Michonne's heart skipped a beat. "Are you serious?" If Rick was worried, she really needed to be.

"Michonne, I'm just joking. Little Halloween humor."

"You're so funny," she deadpanned, annoyed that he had gotten her.

She could hear him chuckling. "I'll see you in a couple of hours."

She hung up feeling considerably calmer than before. Dre was still sound asleep beside her. She should have woken him up, but she enjoyed the quiet instead, her mind racing. She had not planned on dressing up tonight beyond a pair of cat ears she saved for the occasion. It didn't feel as though the cat ear headband would be enough.

She carefully lifted her son up off of the couch and carried her into her bedroom, placing him on the bed before she dove into her closet. She hadn't looked at Mike's side in months. Cleaning it out had taken a herculean effort, but there were a few pieces of clothing there that she could not bear to part with. She glanced through the hangers, feeling the familiar pang of missing her husband. She rifled through, breathing in the fading scent of Mike's cologne until she found it. She had hated that faded brown poncho when he was alive, but now just the sight of it made her smile. She tugged it off of its hangar, an idea forming in her mind. She bent down to look through Mike's other treasures, collected from road trips and secondhand stores around the country. When she spotted the white handle, she grinned. She had found her costume.

At 6:20 on the dot, Michonne's phone began to ring. She was finishing up painting Andre's face green.

"What are you momma?" he took in her appearance with wide eyes.

"What do I look like?" she asked him, smearing green face paint on his brown cheeks.

He considered the question seriously. "You look mean."

"Mean?" she asked, laughing.

"Like you fight people," Andre concluded.

"So I'm a mean fighter," she told him, smudging the makeup on his nose. "And you're a mean, green, superhero machine."

"Rawr!" he shouted.

Michonne went to wipe her hands off when she noticed her cellphone.

"Hey there," she greeted.

"We're here," Rick told her. "Should we meet you outside?"

"You're welcome to come in. I have to finish up Dre's makeup." Michonne headed for her front door. She opened it to see Rick and Carl walking up her driveway. Her laughter was instantaneous.

"Happy Halloween," Rick greeted on a grin.

"Hey there, tiger," Michonne continued laughing. "Hi Carl."

"Hi Ms. Jackson," Carl smiled at her. His hat had morphed into a full-fledged Sheriff's outfit, complete with a pop cap gun. He looked adorable. His father, by contrast, looked ridiculous. He was wearing a tiger striped adult onesie, complete with a hood and ears, and painted on whiskers.

"What are you supposed to be?" Rick took in her appearance, from the brown hooded poncho to her white samurai sword.

"I'm a road warrior," she explained, gesturing to her entire outfit.

"Creative," he complimented.

"Not as much as yours." She began to laugh again as she stepped aside to admit them in. Andre came running up, his green foam muscles rustling. The adults allowed their two children to catch up for a moment as Michonne gathered Andre's pumpkin bucket and tucked her purse beneath her poncho.

"How are you?" Rick asked her seriously.

"I'm better," she said honestly.

"I can talk to Shane, if you want," Rick looked at her seriously, a feat considering he was covered in orange and black fluff.

"I'd rather you talk to Lori, actually," she told him.

"Lori?" Rick checked to make sure his son was occupied.

"I can't get a hold of her lawyer," Michonne admitted. "It's like she's avoiding setting up a meeting."

"That doesn't make sense," Rick's face crinkled, highlighting his painted on whiskers. "She's the one who wanted the divorce."

"Maybe she has cold feet," Michonne told him.

"I'll talk to her," he assured her. "No sense in dragging this out. Especially with Shane creeping around," Rick shook his head.

"We can talk about it later," she smiled at him. "Right now, we're trick or treating." She brandished the pumpkin bucket.

"I call any and all Kit Kats," Rick announced.

"That's fine. Dibs on the Reese's," Michonne added.

"No fair," Dre frowned.

"Don't worry," Carl assured Andre, "I won't let them take them all," he grinned up at his dad from under his hat.

"Says you," Rick teased, already heading for the door.

"Bye dad!" Andre acted on habit, shouting goodbye at his father's picture. Rick and Carl glanced up curiously. A long silence spread through the room. Andre seemed to realize he had done something off-kilter. Michonne moved to comfort him, but was beaten to the punch.

"Bye, Mr. Jackson!" Carl waved cheerfully at the picture and then seized Dre's hand. "Do your neighbors hand out good candy?" he asked.

"Full bars," Michonne announced, feeling a surge of affection for the freckled police officer's son.

"Let's go!" Carl announced, leading the charge. Michonne chanced a glance at Rick. He was staring back at her.

"Let's go," he repeatedly kindly.

"All right then," Michonne followed them out of the door.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I hope everyone had a lovely holiday weekend here in the US. Thank you again for all of your feedback, follows and favorites! Here goes chapter 6!**

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The morning of November 1st dawned bright and early for Rick Grimes. He awoke in a haze, half expecting to see the Tiffany Blue walls of his old bedroom. Instead, he was greeted with the stark beige of Hershel's home, the scratchy mattress pressing up into his back. Groggily, he leaned over and checked his phone; it was a quarter until 5 am. He hadn't dropped Carl off until almost 10 pm the night before, loathe to deprive himself of time with his son.

He suspected that most nearly divorced men did not spend inordinate amounts of time around their lawyers, but he and Carl had a great time the night before. Michonne made for great company when she wasn't focused on her work. Her normally serious demeanor melted away around her son, Andre. He knew that Carl enjoyed their time with her and with Dre. It was the closest to normalcy that they had both had in a month.

It used to be he and Lori shuttling Carl around on Halloween night, and once upon a time, they had both been happy about it. It seemed so long ago, those times before he questioned everything, back when he fancied that he understood how she thought and what she felt. He'd felt her pulling away the last two years and nothing, not kind gestures or kind words, had seemed to be able to fix it. They were simply growing apart, two people who didn't know one another anymore. Rick had been willing to get to know her again, to give their relationship a try. Lori had rather gotten to know Shane.

Sighing, Rick shook the angst-ridden thoughts from his brain. There was no use crying, not now, not after everything. He had people depending on him, people rooting for him. He needed to get his life back on track.

The first step was to get up, get dressed and head outside. The stables needed cleaning and Rick saw to it as the sun came up, the manual labor warming his muscles in the cold autumn air. He turned his plan over in his head. He needed to go into the precinct and meet his new partner. He needed to talk to Lori and find out what was going on with her and the divorce. He needed to find a helper for Hershel, now that he had been reinstated. He wasn't sure which task was most daunting to him.

"Good morning," Maggie greeted from the kitchen table, her nose deep in a book.

Rick greeted her and sat down. "What would your dad think if I hired some help around here?"

"A hired hand?" Maggie looked up over her novel. "I suppose this means you got your job back?"

"I did," Rick confirmed, delighting in her smile.

"I could help around here," Maggie sat the book down.

"You've got studying to worry about," Rick nodded at the Russian novel lying between them. "I think I might have someone in mind. I could pay him myself."

"Daddy would never let you spend your own money," Maggie pointed out.

"He would if it was a matter of my pride. And if you talked to him." Rick took a bite of an apple, looking at Maggie pointedly.

"You talk to the fellow you have in mind. I'll talk to daddy," Maggie smiled and picked her book back up. "How was your holiday?" she asked without opening it.

"Nice," Rick grinned.

"Do you have pictures of Carl's costume?" she asked.

Rick slid his phone at her. Maggie rifled through the pictures, smiling at Carl and laughing out right at Rick.

"It was the only thing Walmart had left," he said by way of explanation.

"Is this your lawyer? Ms. Jackson?" she held the phone up on a picture of the four of them that her neighbor had been kind enough to take.

"That's her," Rick confirmed.

"She's pretty," Maggie observed.

"I suppose so."

"Like you didn't notice." Maggie scoffed.

"I'm getting a divorce, Maggie. I'm not exactly in the market." Rick rolled his eyes.

"Still, she's easy on the eyes. This is her son?"

"Andre." Rick was growing fond of the little guy, not in the least because Carl seemed to enjoy looking after him. He'd always hoped to give Carl a sibling one day. He supposed it would have to be with another woman now.

"Y'all seem to be getting on," Maggie handed the phone back.

"She's gone through something similar, losing a spouse. It helps just being around someone." Rick admitted. He drew on Michonne's energy while he was in her company. Her no-nonsense attitude had awakened something in him that he thought he had forgotten.

"She's divorced?"

"Widowed." Rick had been wanting to ask her what happened. Andre seemed to remember his father, so the incident could not have been so long ago.

"Poor thing," Maggie clicked her tongue softly. "Can't be easy, raising a son by yourself."

"She's tough," Rick said.

Maggie smiled. "I'm glad you have someone to get you through this."

"I have a couple of someones," he stood up then and jokingly ruffled her hair. She slapped at his hand lightly.

"What have you got going on today?" she asked him, opening her book.

"I have some errands to run. Some people to call." Rick seized his phone.

"So we'll see you tonight?" Maggie was already back to reading.

"I'll be here," he told her.

"Good luck!" she called after him, her voice echoing through the wooden halls.

Rick considered the day ahead of him. He didn't need to report to the station until Monday at the earliest, and he'd rather swallow tacks than start his day off talking to Lori. That left only one option. He searched for the number in his phone, took a deep breath and called.

"Speak of the devil," a gruff country accent greeted him.

"I want to come by today," Rick skipped the pleasantries. The other man had never been much for them anyway.

"So come by," the voice said and hung up.

Rick tucked his phone away. All things considered, that had gone pretty well. He headed upstairs to shower and get dressed. He would tackle his life one step at a time.

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"Well if it ain't our famous local officer," Rick would have recognized that sardonic voice anywhere.

"Been staying out of trouble, Dixon?" Rick got out of the truck and smiled at his informant turned friend.

"Can't say the same for you," Daryl Dixon was smirking at him from his place near the door. His hair was still long and unkempt, dark and falling over his ears. He was in his trademark white tank top and biker vest, his arms strong and tan from hours of being outside. He was the kind of man Rick would never have thought he could have been friends with. Daryl Dixon was an enigma, a guy with a hard childhood and checkered past. Rick wasn't completely sure that he was keeping his nose clean even now, but he had found an ally in this backwoods boy.

"You saw the video?" Rick adjusted the sleeves of his uniform, reacquainting himself with the scratchy feel of the thick fabric.

"Everyone saw the video. I think every damn kid in there showed it to me," Daryl's smile widened for just a second. "That was a pretty good first hit. You shouldn't have let him tackle you though."

"Live and learn," Rick shrugged.

"You gonna tell me what the fight was about?" Daryl asked.

'My wife," Rick figured there was no point in lying. It wasn't as though Daryl had room to judge. "Soon to be ex-wife."

"Oh shit." Daryl stood up straight. "With your partner?"

"He ain't my partner anymore," Rick told him, joining the man in the shade.

"No fucking kidding," Daryl absorbed this information for a moment. "You should have broke more than his nose."

"I have a reputation to think about," Rick smiled at him.

"You've got some damage control to do with them kids," Daryl nodded his head in the direction of the gym. "They ain't seen nothing of you for a month 'cept that video of you fighting in the street."

"I figured." Rick sighed. "Had to get my shit together first."

Daryl nodded. "What are you gonna tell 'em?"

"The truth. Or the parts of it they need to hear," Rick squinted at his watch. It was half past 3 pm. The kids should all be gathered now.

"Well then," Daryl spit the gum he was chewing out in a nearby trashcan, "Let's get going."

The kids had pushed all of the chairs into their customary circle and were already seated, chatting away at the top of their lungs. They silenced once Rick walked in, all eyes glued to him. Rick was relieved to see all of their faces, even under the circumstances. He had started this group 3 years ago, after a case with a juvenile left him with a bad taste in his mouth. He didn't believe in locking up problem kids. Most of them grew up just like Daryl, with none of the resources to succeed. It had been a long shot when he asked the former criminal and current police informant to help him out with a youth group, but Daryl had agreed. The dark-haired man wasn't much for talking, but when he did speak, his words resounded with the teens. They had a boys' group of about 30 teenagers now, kids that they were determined to keep out of trouble. Rick had been distracted for the last month, but Daryl gallantly kept their group going, shepherding them through community service programs and meetings, first while Rick healed and then while Rick pulled his life together.

"Look who came back," Daryl announced without preamble, taking his seat in the circle.

"He y'all," Rick greeted them, taking in the faces of many different colors, all watching him expectantly. "So I guess you have some questions for me," Rick sat in his seat, bracing himself for the onslaught. He was supposed to set an example for these boys, not get caught brawling in the middle of the road. He wasn't sure what influence he would have on them now.

"Where have you been?" a kid name Tony was the first to speak up. Tony was a ringleader of sorts, the kind of person that other kids rallied around. He had been in trouble for fighting in school. Now, he led the charge when it came to motivating the boys around him.

"I had some things to work out," Rick said. "I'm sure you saw the video."

"Didn't know you hit that hard," a kid name Antwan spoke up, almost reverently.

"It's not my proudest moment," Rick knew he had to answer to them, especially after preaching watching your temper for months on end.

"What'd he do?" Tony asked again. "the guy you were beating on."

Rick paused, considering how to phrase this. He settled on brutal honesty. "He slept with my wife."

You could have heard a pin drop.

"Shit…" a normally quiet boy named Gabriel muttered.

"Yeah," Rick let the kids absorb that. "I didn't have the best reaction. Could have lost my job. Definitely lost my best friend. And my wife."

"So what are you going to do now?" another teenager asked.

"Get my life back together. Starting with my job," Rick gestured to his uniform. "Life doesn't always go the way you picture it, but it isn't any reason to give up. You got to keep fighting."

He paused, waiting for more questions. Instead the boys all just looked at one another.

"It's nice to have you back," Tony said, smiling. "Thought we'd only have that video to remember you by."

"500,000 views," another guy piped up. "Officer Rick went viral."

Rick had to laugh. "So what have you all been up to this month?"

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"Normally it's me telling the sob stories," Daryl shoveled peanuts in his mouth a few hours later. They were both seated on barstools, having a few beers.

"Guess you're the one who gets to give the inspiring lectures now," Rick took a sip and grinned at him.

"Nah. I got more sob stories than you. Plus, you're so damn good at lecturing." Daryl smirked.

"How have you been, man?" Rick asked him.

Daryl shrugged. "Same old shit, different day. Trying to keep Meryl's dumb ass clean. Doing odd jobs where I can."

"You still looking for work?" Rick asked. He knew Daryl didn't like asking for help, but finding a job was no easy feat for an ex-con.

"Looking for something permanent, yeah." He took a long pull on his beer.

"What do you know about horses?" Rick asked him.

"Horses?" Daryl snorted. "Do I look like a cowboy?"

"You look like someone who could shovel shit." Rick teased him.

"What, you living on a farm now?" Daryl kept his face impassive, but Rick could tell he wanted to laugh.

"Actually yeah. I was helping the owner out, but now that I'm back on the force…"

"Someone has to shovel the shit…" Daryl finished. They lapsed into silence while Daryl considered the offer. "Guess I could help out, if you needed it."

"I'd appreciate it a lot man. I got my hands full. Lori's dragging her feet with this whole divorce. Making life hell."

"What, she's not still with that crazy partner of yours?" Daryl ate more peanuts.

"She is. She doesn't want to be with me, but she doesn't want to divorce me either."

"Women," Daryl sighed. "Probably doesn't want to give up on you in case this new guy doesn't work." He took another draw on the bottle.

"Doesn't matter. Whatever we had, she killed it. You know she was fucking him while I was in the hospital?" Rick found it easy to talk to Daryl, despite the fact that Daryl didn't do too much talking of his own. The man understood hard knocks though.

"That's cold blooded," Daryl screwed his face up like he had tasted something sour. "You gotta good lawyer?"

"Yeah," Rick pulled his phone out. "You've seen the video?"

"Of you getting your ass kicked?" Daryl did laugh then. "Yeah."

"This is my lawyer," Rick ignored his discomfort at how easy it was to find the video online and slid his phone towards his friend.

"The black chick?" Daryl picked the phone up and paused it, inspecting the image.

"Yeah. She's a hell of a lawyer. Shut Lori up at the first hearing."

"That's why she's pissed, then," Daryl sat the phone down and ordered another beer. Rick waited for him to finish his thought. When he showed no sign of continuing, Rick prompted him.

"Why do you think Lori's pissed?" he asked, getting another beer himself.

"Not only did you get a good lawyer, you got a hot lawyer," Daryl said this like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "And she don't look nothing like Lori."

"You think she's jealous?" the thought had never occurred to Rick.

"Hell yeah. She's used to being the only woman running you. Now you got this supermodel lawyer taking her to court." Daryl laughed. "It's pretty obvious."

"That doesn't make an ounce of sense."

"Since when does life make sense?" Daryl grinned. "She don't want you, but she damn sure doesn't want anyone else in your life. She wants you home crying and pining for her, not moving on."

"Petty," Rick laughed.

"Your lawyer, is she single?" Daryl glanced back at the phone again with interest.

"She's got a kid," Rick's laughter intensified. "Cute little guy."

"You've met the kid?" Daryl asked. "No wonder Lori's pissed."

"Nothing's happening," Rick said.

"Yet."

"We're just getting to know one another. It's nice to have a friend."

"If a woman who looked like that was hanging around me, I damn sure wouldn't be trying to be her friend," Daryl looked skeptical.

"I'm still married."

"She's trying to fix that."

"I'm not trying to jump into anything new just yet."

"You don't gotta marry her."

"She's not the kind of woman that you do that with," Rick said with finality. He had no idea why Michonne was single, but she didn't need some asshole in her life just trying to get laid.

"Shame." Daryl polished off another beer. "So when do I come over and shovel this shit?"

Rick left Daryl at the bar with Hershel's address and a decent buzz. He was thinking about Lori, about what Daryl had said. Was she dragging her feet out of jealousy?

The night outside was cold and he hurried to his truck. It'd been a month since he'd found out about their affair. It felt odd to think that a month ago, he was dying to make things work with her, and now all he wanted was to be free of her. He had once thought he would love her forever, grow old together. Her betrayal had shifted something inside of him.

He sighed. He couldn't put this conversation off anymore.

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Rick walked up the familiar path to what used to be his home, rehearsing what he wanted to say in his mind. Carl was asleep, a blessing, considering the fact that Rick was fairly certain that he and Lori were about to end up yelling at each other.

"Rick," she opened the door before he even reached it, arms crossed across her chest. It was her defensive posture. Rick inwardly sighed. "You know that Carl's in bed," she told him.

"I'm not here for Carl," Rick stopped in front of her, sizing up the woman who would soon be his ex-wife.

"Then what are you here for?" she asked. "Forgot some stuff when you packed up?"

"I'm here to ask you why you're dragging your feet on the divorce," Rick came out right with it, looking her square in the eye.

"What are you talking about?" Lori sounded annoyed, but turned her face away from him.

"I'm talking about why you aren't taking my lawyers calls," Rick kept a respectable distance, cognizant of what the neighbors might see if they looked outside.

"Your lawyer?" Lori scoffed. "I can't stand that woman."

"She's just doing her job-"

"She's rude," Lori snapped. Rick had to stop himself from laughing. Lori never did like losing.

"Regardless, you want to be free of me, then you need to work with her," Rick squinted under the flickering porch light. Soon, he would be back to work during. He wondered vaguely what it would be like now that Shane was gone. He had never had another partner.

"And what is it that you think I want?" Lori turned her eyes back to him.

"The same thing I do. A quiet divorce. Joint custody of Carl." Rick shrugged. "Why are you making this complicated?"

"Why are you keeping Shane away from Carl?" Lori asked in response, her eyes narrowing.

"Because that man might have stolen you, but he damn sure ain't going to steal my son. If he wants a baby so damn bad, you and him can hurry up and make one. Carl is mine." Rick was tempted to get in her face. He could feel all of the blood in his body rushing up to his head.

"Carl's mine too," Lori protested.

"So let's bang out this custody agreement and stop all of this fighting," Rick kept focused on his goal for this conversation. Carl was counting on him staying calm.

"What have you told your lawyer about me and Shane?" Lori asked.

"The truth," Rick wrinkled his forehead.

"You want to know the truth, Rick? We were over long before you landed in that hospital." She shut the door behind her with a snap, gearing up for a shouting match.

"Now you're just throwing low blows," Rick wanted to walk away from the situation, but would not lower himself to her level.

"I'm telling you the truth. You were never around. Always at work, taking care of people who had nothing to do with us," Lori was starting to get hysterical. Rick allowed her to continue. "Even Carl was starting to miss you."

"I did my best, Lori," Rick fought to keep his voice level. "You knew who I was. You knew me for years. If you wanted somebody who was going to be at your every whim-"

"I wanted someone who was going to be around!" she burst out. "Not out saving the world. You always had some passion project, some inner-city kid who needed your attention..."

"I never neglected Carl," Rick cut her off. "Never."

"Just your wife," Lori scoffed, her eyes brightening with tears.

"Not like Shane, right?" Rick asked her, taking a step closer. "I bet he was all too quick to fill in those moments when I wasn't around."

"He was a friend. He cares about us," Lori protested.

"A friend wouldn't do that, wouldn't break up a family. A friend would have pulled me aside, told me my wife was slipping away. Shane wasn't no friend," Rick ground out. "A friend wouldn't be following my lawyer around the damn department store, trying to intimidate her."

"What?" Lori's head snapped up.

"I wouldn't worry about it, if I were you. Shane's a good man, right? All he focuses on is you." Rick let the sarcasm seep through. "So do me a favor, Lori, since I got to figure you owe me one. Take the damn calls. Let's get on with our lives already." Rick threw his arms up. "I'm sick of this fighting. You're done with me. The sooner this ends, the sooner you can shack up with Prince Charming." Rick was already moving back down the driveway.

"You don't come around here anymore, if you aren't coming for Carl," Lori called after him. "I don't want to see you."

"Then pick up the damn phone, Lori." Rick shot over his shoulder.

It took a lot to climb into his truck and calm himself down. Lori knew exactly where to aim to get under his skin. Rick could feel his heart thumping in his chest as his temper rose. He had half a mind to go down the road to Shane's place, but logic won out. His former friend knew him too, knew exactly how to bait him. They may have been playing some long con, trying to get Carl away from him.

They wouldn't win.

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Hershel was seated on the couch, reading through his Bible when Rick arrived back at home. The older man glanced up at him as he stomped in.

"So you talked to Lori," Hershel lowered his Bible to his lap, looking expectant.

"Is it that obvious?" Rick pulled his work boots off and left them by the door.

"You're walking around like you're trying to put holes in my floor," Hershel laughed. "How did it go?"

"I don't know," Rick flopped down next to him. "We fought."

"Understandable. What about?" Hershel gave Rick his full attention.

"About Shane. About the divorce." Rick leaned his head back into the cushions, totally exhausted.

"Do you want to divorce her?" Hershel asked him.

"Yes," Rick's answer was instant. "She's not the same woman anymore. She hates me, but she won't take my lawyer's calls."

"Did she say why?"

"She's angry. Angry at my lawyer, angry at me for supposedly never bring around. I guess Shane gives her his undivided attention," the words left a bad taste in Rick's mouth.

"I see. Is there any truth in what she said?"

Rick paused. "I was working a lot, since we moved to Atlanta. Seems like the less she talked to me, the harder I worked."

"So she has reason to be angry?" Hershel continued.

"I guess. I ain't perfect. But I would have never done something like that to her." Rick closed his eyes. His head was pounding.

"Well she put the nail in the coffin no doubt, but there's fault on both sides," Hershel said calmly. "Be patient, Rick. These things don't happen overnight. Healing takes time."

"I figured she'd want to just get this whole thing over with." Rick exhaled heavily.

"Fighting her won't speed anything up. Be the bigger man. Don't fuel her anger."

"Why do I have to be the bigger person?" Rick was dangerously close to pouting.

"Because that's what you do, Rick." Hershel smiled at him. "So keep on doing it."

"Fine," Rick grumbled, peeking out of one eye at Hershel with a smirk.

"This old man is headed to bed," Hershel announced. "Keep your head up, son." He stood up to leave.

"Thanks," Rick smiled fondly at him.

Rick sat on the couch, listening to the creaking of the house around him and organizing all of his thoughts. He started an exercise that Hershel always reminded him to do: counting your blessings. There was plenty to be thankful for, even in the midst of this shit storm. He had Carl on the weekends, he was going back to work soon, he still had friends. He was finding a new friend in Michonne Jackson.

All in all, things weren't too bad.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Hello all of you lovely people. As always, thank you from the bottom of my heart for all of your continued support. I love reading all of your predictions and commentary!**

* * *

Andrea Harrison regarded Michonne over her glass of red wine.

"Remind me again why you can't come?" she asked for the third time that week.

Michonne humored her old friend. "I have a client appointment."

"On a Friday evening?" Andrea rolled her eyes. "More pro-bono work? How many cases does that make this year?"

"6 by my count," Sasha spoke up. She was seated in an over-stuffed chair, nursing a large wine glass.

"You realize of course, that we are only required to do two a year. How do you make any money?" Andrea laughed, shaking her head. Michonne's friend and coworker had a kind heart, but was not always particularly charitable. Andrea was the kind of woman people either hated or loved, tough as nails, often admired, sometimes scorned behind her back. She was a partner in their law firm, a hard worker, a fierce friend, and an even fiercer enemy.

"I do all right for myself," Michonne insisted. This subject came up often, particularly when she was declining an invitation to a social event.

"You only get so many nights where you don't have to be a mom," Andrea continued her argument. "And you intend to spend them working?"

"Not all of them," Michonne took a sip. "Just this one."

"Who's the client?" Andrea leaned in.

"Must be Rick Grimes," Sasha again speculated, refreshing her glass.

The three women were stationed in Andrea's office, watching the sunset through the frosted window. The Peletier case had gone successfully, and a debriefing had quickly turned into an impromptu happy hour. Andrea always had a bottle or two of good wine stored away in her corner office for such happy occasions. She, Sasha, and Michonne were all indulging.

"Who's Rick Grimes?" Andrea asked interestedly.

"He's Michonne's damsel in distress." Sasha was clearly enjoying teasing her friend. Her lips were quirked up around her wine glass. "She swept in and rescued him in the middle of the street."

"Oh! The officer out there acting a fool!" Recognition dawned for Andrea. She turned to Michonne curiously. "What makes this one worth all the effort?"

"He's a good man," Michonne said simply.

"And a handsome one," Sasha added with a smirk, "in a country boy kind of way."

"Oh…" Andrea was smirking now too.

"It's not that like that," Michonne was quick to shut that talk down. Looks had nothing to do with her growing attachment to the wayward officer.

"But you don't deny he's handsome?" Andrea questioned.

"No I do not." It was easy enough for Michonne to admit that. "That's just not why I'm helping him."

"But is it why you're spending all this extra time with him?" Sasha had clearly been dying to ask this. She was leaning forward in her seat, her eyes glinting in the low light.

"Extra time?" Andrea was in full gossip mode.

"Spill the tea," Sasha instructed.

Michonne laughed. One pair of blue eyes and one of brown were staring at her with rapt attention. "We're becoming friends," she said with a shrug. "It's not the drama you're both imagining."

"Friends who have play dates with their kids?" Sasha was unsatisfied.

"He's met Dre?" Andrea poured more wine. "This _is_ news."

"He has a son too." Michonne took a dignified sip. "They get along."

"Be real, 'Chonne." Sasha rolled her eyes. "You haven't introduced a man to Andre since Mike passed."

"I needed time," Michonne explained. "Rick is easy to be around." She didn't know why she felt compelled to justify their relationship. She'd been a mess after Mike had been killed. The only thing that had kept her going was Andre. Letting new people in was a challenge; she did not like having to explain Mike's loss to strangers. Rick never made her explain herself. He took the information she shared in stride without demanding more. It made him an excellent confidant.

Andrea and Sasha exchanged a knowing look.

"You went trick or treating together," Sasha said.

"That's it," Andrea stood up and held out her hand. "Picture. Now."

Michonne willingly relinquished her phone. Both Sasha and Andrea crowded around the screen.

"This is too cute," Sasha commented.

"Michonne," Andrea looked up seriously. "This is big for you."

Michonne took another drink in lieu of answering. Her friends looked at her sympathetically.

"It's ok you know, to start caring for another man," Sasha said gently.

Michonne took a shaky breath, trying to ignore her sudden pounding pulse. "He's still married."

"He won't always be, especially not with you as his lawyer." Andrea pointed out.

"I don't think he feels that way. He's still hurting." Michonne did not want to consider the possibility. She needed to keep a clear mind and level head about this, not run wild with fantasies. She had Andre to consider, and he had Carl. They were beyond the point in their life for casual dalliances.

"So are you," Andrea was blunt, as was her nature. "But maybe you'll heal together."

"Or maybe he'll just be a friend," Sasha was quick to interject. Michonne looked at her thankfully. Sasha smiled. "Either way, we are happy for you."

"Bring him tonight." Andrea was not so easily dissuaded. She continued to inspect the picture of him as though he were evidence in a case.

"To the party?" Michonne rose a brow.

"Why not? The man has been to your house. I think client/lawyer decorum has been tossed out of the window. Besides, he could use the night out. He's got to get used to being single."

Michonne considered this. "I'll ask him. He may not want to go."

"Tell him that he can bring a friend," Sasha suggested, ever the negotiator.

"I want to meet him," Andrea said. "So, make him come."

"I don't think I can _make_ him do anything," Michonne laughed off her friend's request, ignoring Andrea's skeptical eyebrow raise.

"We'll see you both tonight," the blonde said with finality, finishing her wine glass.

The sun had set by the time Michonne arrived at the diner where Rick had agreed to meet her. Responsibility necessitated that she walk to their meeting spot, a place blessedly only a few blocks away. The wine seemed to make her sluggish in the cold air. She hurried inside, careful not to topple over in her heels as she made her way to the red pleather booth the hostess had pointed out. The diner was the cheesy kind with a 50's theme and miserable looking employees in paper hats and poodle skirts. Still, there was a charm to it, in a kitschy kind of way.

"You're almost late," Rick stood up when he saw her, a smile etched on his face. "I was about to send out a search party."

"I'm sorry," Michonne apologized as she removed her coat. "My meeting ran late."

"No need to apologize," Rick hugged her. The gesture was new to her, and she felt her body tense in surprise. She recovered quickly, wrapping her arms around him and giving him a gentle squeeze. He was wearing all black. On closer inspection, she realized that he was in uniform.

"You're back to work," she smiled at him.

"I am," Rick waited for her to take her seat before sliding in across from her. "It feels good to be back."

"How's your new partner?" she asked, adjusting her skirt to protect her legs from the cold seat.

"Young," Rick shrugged. "New to the business."

"So you're in charge," she smiled.

"I guess so," he looked back at her, a slight smile on his lips. Michonne held his eyes for a moment, expecting him to continue, but he was just looking at her.

Michonne glanced down at the menu. She'd had slightly too much wine during her little session with her coworkers, and was more buzzed than she had intended. She blamed the alcohol for her sudden wave of nerves. Michonne was not in the habit of lacking confidence, but now she was fiddling with the menu rather than look the man in front of her in the eyes.

"I want French fries," she announced.

Rick laughed. "Want a burger with those fries?"

"Yup," she glanced up at him. "And a milkshake."

"Are you celebrating something?" his smile widened, crinkling pleasant laugh lines around his indigo eyes.

"You getting back to work," she closed her menu, her confidence slowly reappearing.

"Then I'll celebrate too. Burgers and fries and milkshakes it is." Rick fiddled with his sleeves, unbuttoning the cuffs and pushing them up. "Which flavor are you going to get?" he asked her.

"Strawberry," Michonne didn't have to think about it. Strawberry had always been her favorite. "You?"

"Chocolate," Rick smoothed a hand through his hair, pushing back some wayward curls. He had gotten a haircut recently. She complimented him on it. "Thanks," he told her. "My friend's daughter cut it in the bathroom."

Michonne wanted to ask more details but refrained. "She did a good job."

"She's not too bad at it. Hershel raised two good girls. He's who I'm living with," Rick drummed his fingers on the table.

"He seems like a good man," she observed.

"The best. I'll have to introduce you one day. I think y'all would get on just fine."

Michonne smiled. She noticed that Rick's accent strengthened whenever he was feeling relaxed. She liked his old-fashioned turns of phrase.

"I'd like that," she told him.

"Good. He's been asking about you." Rick grinned. "Guess I talk about you a lot."

"My coworkers ask about you too," Michonne swallowed a sip of water from the glass in front of her. "They've actually invited you to a party tonight."

"A party?" Rick looked amused. "It's been a while since I partied."

"It's more of a gathering really. Glenn and Sasha and a few friends from around the office. They said you could bring someone." She wondered whether he was taken aback by her offer. Thus far, their relationship centered around the goal of getting his life back together.

"Will you be there?" he asked.

"They twisted my arm," Michonne laughed.

"Huh," Rick looked like he wanted more details, but the waitress interrupted. He made sure she ordered first before he asked for the same thing, smiling easily at the young woman serving them. His manners never slipped, at least as far as Michonne had noticed.

"What's the occasion for the party?" he asked when she walked away.

"According to my coworker, it's because we all need a break," Michonne unrolled her silverware from the little napkin.

"I could use a break…" Rick mused, mirroring her actions. "I talked to Lori."

"How was it?" work was familiar territory. Michonne felt herself relaxing.

"She's still hostile," Rick chuckled deep in his chest. "Hopefully she'll cooperate. I told her about Shane."

"How did she react?" The department store incident had played in her mind more than a few times in the last week.

"She seemed surprised. Hard to tell. It's weird, because I used to know her thoughts before she even had them, but now I don't know her at all." Rick furrowed his brow.

"Do you miss that?" Michonne asked, curious. She missed Mike all the time, even after she had found out the circumstances of his death.

"Being close?" Rick paused. "Maybe a little bit. More like I'm in mourning for who we used to be. We aren't the same people at all anymore."

"You're handling it well," she told him.

"Mostly because I'm a little angry too," he admitted. "And I'm not going to have a breakdown in front of you." He grinned at her.

"Why not?" she asked, meaning for it to be a joke. Rick had exposed a sense of humor she rather liked.

"Because you're so unshakable. It makes me want to be strong too," Rick's answer was unexpected. Michonne felt her cheeks heating up.

"You learn to put your armor up," she admitted. "It took years of practice."

"After your husband?" Rick asked, almost reluctantly.

"Yes," she prayed he wouldn't pry further.

She was saved by the waitresses' return, burgers in hand. Michonne fell on her French fries with almost furious intent, determined to sop up some of the wine that was lowering her defenses. Rick slurped his milkshake noisily.

"Want a sip?" he extended the frosty glass to her, straw out. Michonne happily traded him, relishing in the smooth chocolate.

"That's very good," she complimented.

"Yours too," Rick took another sip for good measure, forgoing the straw and gulping right from the side of the glass. "So, what time is this party?"

"Around 8," Michonne swallowed a bit of hamburger.

"Is it fancy?"

She laughed. "No. We'll all be in jeans. It's not often that we all get to dress down."

"I better go home and change them," Rick tugged at his uniform. "I can bring a friend?"

"Of course," she took another bite, wondering who he was thinking of bringing.

"Might bring Hershel's daughter. Get her out of her daddy's hair. You got any young people coming that she could talk to?"

Michonne thought about it. "Glenn will be there. He might bring some friends."

"Good enough," Rick dug back into his food.

"I suppose we should talk business now," Michonne observed.

Rick shrugged. "I'd rather eat junk food with a friend tonight, if you don't mind." He held up his glass, as if to cheers her.

"Not at all," Michonne raised her milkshake and clinked it against his.

An hour later, Michonne had successfully consumed enough food to soak up any traces of wine remaining in her system. Rick insisted on driving her back to her car, refusing to let her walk the few blocks in the dark.

"It's my pleasure," he assured her, opening the door to his truck.

Michonne lifted herself up into the cab, settling in on the worn seats. The truck looked like it had seen many miles but was still well-cared for. Every surface was clean and the air smelled faintly of pine. Rick crossed around to the other side and Michonne leaned over to unlock the door for him.

"Thanks," he smiled at her and hopped in, starting the car. Warm air blew in through the vents and Michonne sighed contentedly.

"It's cold out," she explained when Rick glanced at her curiously.

"And you wanted to walk," he teased, steering the car up the darkened streets.

They rode in comfortable silence, underscored by the quiet sound of classical rock humming out of the radio. Michonne mentally catalogued away his musical tastes.

"I'll see you in an hour or two," Rick told her as he hopped out of his truck to open her door again.

"I'll text you the address," she promised, fishing her keys out of her purse.

Ten minutes later found her stationed in front of her closet, thinking entirely too much about what she was going to wear. She took a certain amount of pride in her appearance, but Michonne never would have considered herself vain. She was acutely aware of the fact that Rick had only seen her out of her work clothes once, and she had been wearing her deceased husband's poncho at the time. She was overthinking this. Scolding herself internally, Michonne rifled through her belongings until she found her favorite pair of blue jeans.

Her phone began to beep from her purse on the bed. Thinking it was her mother calling on behalf of Andre, she lunged for it.

"You should wear the blue jumpsuit." It was a text from Sasha, complete with a winky face.

Michonne rolled her eyes. "Who do you think I am trying to impress?"

"You never know…" another emoji accompanied this one, quickly succeeded by another message. "Tyrese will be there. You know he likes you."

"Sasha, your brother is nice…" Michonne began to type, choosing her wording carefully. Tyrese was a lovely human being, the equivalent of a human teddy bear. Big and tall and barrel chested, he was the epitome of a gentle giant. He was exactly the kind of personality that Michonne would steamroll over.

"Plus…Rick will be there. Right?" Sasha did not allow Michonne to complete her message.

Sighing, Michonne texted back. "He's bringing a friend."

"Make sure you look hotter than the friend," Sasha instructed. "BLUE JUMPSUIT."

Michonne glanced back at her closet again. It couldn't hurt. The outfit was modest enough, and truly did not see much time outside.

"Why not?" she muttered to herself, seizing the garment from the hanger.

88888

Maggie was positively vibrating with energy from her place beside Rick in his truck.

"Thank you so much for inviting me," she repeated, checking her makeup in his rearview mirror.

"You're doing me the favor, trust me," he assured her. "I don't know anyone here."

"You know Ms. Jackson," Maggie reminded him, fidgeting with her hair. She had curled the shoulder length locks. Rick thought that the effect was pleasing on her.

"I doubt I can hog her all night long," Rick grinned. "They might make me talk to other people."

"This will be good," she told him. "You have to get back out there at some point."

"Yes mom," Rick rolled his eyes. He parked the truck in front of a large colonial home. The brick red walls were illuminated by lanterns dotting the path to the front door. Several cars were parked in the large driveway and the faint sounds of music were pulsing through the glowing windows.

Maggie whistled lowly. "Whose house is this?"

"Some lawyer, I guess," Rick turned off the car.

"I should have gone to law school," Maggie announced in awe. She pulled herself out of the truck, smoothing down her black dress. "How do I look?" she asked.

"Very pretty," Rick assured her.

"You look quite handsome yourself," she complimented. "You should let me dress you every day."

"I'm a grown ass man," Rick felt compelled to remind the young lady.

"And you look like it in that brown button down," Maggie fired right back, already walking up to the house.

Rick fumbled with his phone, debating texting Michonne before they went in. Maggie had no qualms about barging into a party, but Rick didn't want to be in a room full of strangers. His choice was taken away from him when the front door swung open, revealing a pretty, blonde woman with wavy hair and a welcoming smile.

"You must be Rick," she greeted. "Michonne can't stop talking about you."

Rick fought to keep the blush out of his cheeks. "Hi, this is my friend Maggie. Thanks for having us."

Andrea shook Maggie's hand. "Good grip," she complimented. "I'm Andrea Harrison. Come on in."

"Is Ms. Jackson here?" Maggie saved Rick the embarrassment of having to ask.

"Michonne?" Andrea looked amused by the formal title. "She's around here somewhere."

"I want to meet her," Maggie said excitedly to Rick under her breath.

"Michonne!" Andrea called down the hall as she led them through the foyer into the living room.

"She's in the kitchen," the woman Rick recognized as Sasha appeared with a beer in hand.

Rick wanted to immediately retreat to the kitchen and his one friend at this party, but dutifully allowed himself to be shuttled around the house for an impromptu tour. Maggie grins brightly and interacts with the dozens of faces that appear before them, each with some knowledge about Rick that made him uncomfortable.

"Aren't you popular," Maggie teased after another of Michonne's coworkers seemed all too delighted to meet him.

"For all of the wrong reasons," being at work was hard enough with everyone having seen his worst moment. It was disconcerting for so many affluent people to have seen it also.

"Would you like a drink?" Andrea offered at last. She led them into the kitchen.

Michonne was stationed at the counter, laughing with a big, dark-skinned, and bearded man. The two of them appeared to be setting up an appetizer plate. She glanced up at them when they came to the door.

"Rick," her smile widened and she stepped out from behind the counter. Rick kept his eyes on her face with great difficulty. She was wearing some kind of silk jumpsuit in dark blue. It was hugging curves that were hard to ignore in the clinging fabric.

"Hey Michonne," it was hard to believe they had just seen one another a few hours ago. He had seen her in work mode, and in mommy mode. This was something altogether different.

Maggie jumped in, introducing herself and giving Rick time to recover.

"Nice to finally meet you. I loved your Halloween costume."

"Oh gosh," Michonne laughed. "I was just trying to keep up with Tony the Tiger over here."

Rick grinned. "You did a fair job of it."

Andrea shoved beers each of their hands. "Enough introductions," she said with a mischievous smile. "Let's get to the partying part."

By Rick's second beer, he had to admit that he was having a pretty good time. The music was nice and several people were dancing, Maggie among them. She was hitting it off well with Glenn. The young man was giving her his undivided attention. Rick was happy to find that both Sasha and Andrea made good company when they cornered him. No one asked about his personal life, but wanted to hear stories from his work. He regaled them with some of the oddest cases he'd ever worked.

"Enjoying yourself?" Michonne found him again, taking advantage of a momentary lapse in her friends' never ending chatter.

"Not as much as the burgers and fries, but it's not bad," Rick kept his voice light, sipping a beer.

"Well it's not as good as a chocolate shake," she agreed. "Are my coworker's bothering you?"

"Not at all. They keep feeding me and bringing me beer," he held up his bottle as evidence. "You look very pretty," he complimented her.

Michonne smiled. "You're always so polite."

"Just being honest," he told her.

"Flatterer." They lapsed into comfortable silence, watching the party unfold in front of them.

"I'm not sure how to do this anymore," he admitted to her. "I'm out of practice."

Michonne looked at him, a gleam in her eye. "You should ask your friend Maggie. She seems skilled in it."

They watched the woman in question giggle loudly near Glenn, looking far too comfortable for strangers.

"She's going to get me killed by her daddy," Rick lamented.

"He's strict?"

"More like she has a wild streak. She's had one for as long as I can remember. Even as a kid."

"Well," Michonne took a sip of her beer. "Well behaved women seldom make history."

Rick laughed. "I guess she's going down in the books then."

"She's in good company," Michonne nodded towards the owner of the house. Andrea was getting flirty with a dark-haired man in the corner.

"Didn't know lawyers partied like this," Rick observed.

"Not all of us," Michonne nudged him.

"What do you like to do?" he asked her, truly curious.

She glanced at him. "Why do you ask?"

"Well," he took another draw on his bottle. "I feel like we're becoming friends, right?"

"Right." Michonne nodded, her dark curls catching the low light of a lamp nearby.

"And friends know things about each other. Right?"

She smiled. "I like movies."

"What else?" he prompted.

"And books. And good wine, and teaching Andre new and interesting things." She listed. "What do you like?"

"I like spending time with Carl," he said. "But before Carl, I was always outside."

"Country boy?" she asked.

"Horses, cattle, the whole thing," he confirmed. "I've been helping Maggie's daddy with his horses."

"I've never ridden a horse before," Michonne said. "Is it difficult?"

Rick grinned. "Come over one day and find out."

"Is that a challenge?" Michonne turned her body towards him.

"Absolutely, Miss Jackson," he smirked at her. Michonne was fun to banter with. She had a good sense of humor and a quick wit. He'd forgotten what it was like to have friends like that. "I gotta figure I owe you a few lessons at least."

"I might take you up on it," she cocked a brow and polished off her beer. "I'm glad you came to this," she told him.

"I'm glad you invited me," he responded truthfully. "You do too much for me." Sometimes, when he thought about it, it made him uncomfortable accepting so much from her.

She smiled at him. "It's truly my pleasure. But, if you want to pay me back…" she trailed off, waving the empty bottle in front of her.

He smiled, "Another beer it is."


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Here's chapter 8! Thank you for all of your support, as always!**

* * *

"Rick?" Michonne balanced her cellphone against her face, multi-tasking in her office. Paperwork had been piling up on her desk. She rifled through it with her left hand.

"Good evening, Miss Jackson," Rick's customary greeting drew a small smile from her.

"I have good news for you," she told him, trying to keep her voice impassive.

"That _is_ good news. I could use some." Rick sounded tired.

"Hard day?" she asked sympathetically.

"Nothing for you to worry about," he told her kindly.

"Well, why don't you come in? We'll see if I can cheer you up." Michonne began sorting the paperwork into piles.

"It's not too late for you?" Rick asked.

Michonne glanced up. There was no way she was getting out of the office today by 6pm. Thanksgiving was coming at the end of the week, meaning 5 days of work needed to be completed in 3.

"It's never too late for me," she teased.

"Then I'll see you soon." Rick disconnected. Michonne continued on with her work, organizing and shredding what she didn't need.

"Shouldn't I be doing that?" Glenn peeked his head into her office.

"Be my guest," she gestured, scooting over to make room for him.

Glenn joined her, seamlessly falling into step with her as they sifted through dozens of cases.

"I'm guessing tonight is going to be a late night?" It was less of a question and more of a statement.

"For me," Michonne grinned at him from the corner of her eye. "Don't let me keep you from your plans."

"What plans?" Glenn asked innocently.

"What?" Michonne glanced at him skeptically. "No date tonight?"

Glenn sighed, musing his black hair. "Actually, I've been meaning to ask you something…"

"Go for it," Michonne paused in her work.

"What if you really like a woman, but she only wants to…" Glenn paused, looking distressed, "Hook up?"

"As in, have sex?" Michonne asked, fighting to keep her face impassive.

"Yeah," Glenn continued. "I keep asking to take her out, but all she wants to do is take our clothes off."

"Ok," Michonne nodded, trying to look thoughtful. "Have you asked her why?"

"She says she's not even sure she likes me. Who has sex with people they don't like?" Glenn threw his hands up.

Michonne bit back a laugh. "It's been known to happen."

"Do you think she doesn't like me?" Glenn, normally so self-assured, looked absolutely distraught.

"I don't see how she couldn't," Michonne reassured him. "If I was ten years younger…"

Glenn hazarded a smile. "So, what do I do?"

Michonne considered her answer. "Is this by any chance the farmer's daughter?" she asked, eyebrow raised.

"She came on to me," Glenn defended himself.

"At the party," Michonne nodded knowledgably.

"How do you know that?" Glenn asked, surprised.

"Rick and I noticed you disappear for an hour," Michonne turned back to her paperwork, dumping the last stack into the recycle bin.

"Shit," Glenn cursed. "I thought we were subtle."

Michonne laughed outright. "Not at all."

"Does everybody in the office know?" he asked, startled.

"You weren't the only one getting it in at that party. I don't think anyone else noticed." Michonne was struggling not to laugh.

"Wait a second, who else hooked up?" Glenn looked at her curiously. "Did you and Rick…" Glenn clicked his tongue rhythmically.

"If we did, you wouldn't have caught us," Michonne teased.

"So, you did?" Glenn looked thrilled.

"No," Michonne laughed. "Why do people keep asking about Rick and I?"

"I don't know," Glenn laughed. "Maybe because you're always together, or having lunch, or laughing in here, or whatever the hell else you both do."

"We're friends," Michonne rolled her eyes.

"So are we," Glenn pointed out. "I don't take you to lunch."

"I make more than you. If anything, I should take you out." Michonne smirked.

"You don't make more than a cop?" Glenn snorted.

"Fine, we hang out a lot," Michonne conceded.

"And he's coming tonight?" Glenn asked.

Michonne glared. "For work."

"Right." It was Glenn's turn to roll his eyes.

"Aren't you supposed to be strategizing for how to get Maggie to go out with you?" Michonne fired back.

"Oh yeah," Glenn's face fell.

"Listen," Michonne placed a hand on his shoulder, "You need to just be honest with her. If you want to date, you need to tell her. If she doesn't want to, then you cut her off."

"I don't want to stop sleeping with her," Glenn seemed alarmed by the possibility.

"If she doesn't want to give you a real chance, you're only prolonging the pain," Michonne told him. "You're a wonderful guy. Women are always chasing you."

Glenn frowned. "Just not the one I want."

"Life sucks sometimes," Michonne agreed.

"So, I shouldn't meet up with her tonight?" Glenn asked.

Michonne sighed. "Do what feels right, Glenn." So much for good advice.

Glenn looked considerably more cheerful. "And you have fun tonight with Rick."

Michonne snorted, "We're working."

"Do what feels right," Glenn laughed, ducking out of her office to avoid being hit with the stress ball she threw at him from her desk. "Hey, Rick!" she heard him as he barreled out into the hallway.

Rick appeared in her doorway looking amused. "What was that about?" he asked, bending down to scoop up her desk ornament.

"Relationship advice," Michonne smiled, catching it as he tossed it back to her.

"What's this good news?" Rick shrugged out of his leather coat, dropping into his customary chair and glancing up at her expectantly.

"Lori's lawyer called," Michonne sat in the chair next to his. "They've sent a possible custody agreement."

Rick looked surprised. "Can I see it?"

Michonne was already sliding it over to him. "Lori would like to keep Carl during the weekdays, but has conceded weekends, summers and Christmas Day to you. As long as she gets Christmas Eve and New Years." Michonne listed off, waiting for Rick's response.

Rick sat quietly, his eyes flying over her tablet as he read. Michonne allowed him a moment.

"It's weird," Rick mused.

"What's weird?" Michonne asked.

"The thought of not having Carl on every holiday," Rick looked up from the screen.

"It will take some adjusting, that's certain." Michonne did not attempt to minimize his reaction.

"Like Thanksgiving. It's a weekday," he sighed deeply.

"So Lori gets him," it was a point that Michonne was already aware of.

"Exactly." Rick shook his head.

"Divorce is hard," Michonne searched her mind for a way to cheer him up.

Rick laughed sardonically. "That's for damn sure."

"What are you doing for Thanksgiving?" Michonne asked, concerned.

"I'll be with Hershel and Maggie and Beth," Rick answered. "Might have a friend coming."

"Good," she smiled. "I would have invited you over, but it sounds like you're all set."

Rick handed her back the tablet. "What are you doing?"

"It'll just be Andre and I," Michonne smiled. "My family is all far away."

"Join mine," Rick said. "My dinner, I mean," he amended when she looked surprised. "Maggie would love to see you again and Hershel and Beth have been asking about you."

"I couldn't possibly impose," she began.

"We'd all love you have you and Dre. Please," he fixed his eyes on her seriously.

"All right," Michonne nodded. "That's very sweet of you."

"It's the least I could do," he assured her.

"What should I bring?" she asked.

"Just yourself," he grinned.

"What about wine?" Michonne wasn't going to show up empty handed.

"Well, if you want to bring wine, I ain't going to say no." Rick handed her tablet back.

"What should I tell them about the custody agreement?" she asked.

"As long as I get Halloween, I guess I can live with it." Rick shrugged.

"I'll let them know." Michonne was pleased. "After this, the divorce should go quickly."

"Good. I'm ready to be done." Rick stretched. "It'll be nice to see you and not have to talk about my ex."

Michonne chuckled. "It'll be here sooner than you realize." She could see the finish line.

"So, this relationship advice you were handing out to Glenn…" Rick started. "Does this have anything to do with Maggie?"

Michonne snorted. "It does, indeed. Has she talked about him?"

"Not to me," Rick rolled his eyes and leaned back into his seat. "But she's been sneaking around, keeping odd hours."

"Glenn really likes her," Michonne told him.

"That girl doesn't know what's good for her," Rick lamented.

"Maybe she does. She's spending a lot of time with him. She's a pretty girl. I'm sure it's not too hard for her to find guys."

Rick nodded thoughtfully. "What's Glenn doing for Thanksgiving?" he asked.

Michonne grinned at him.

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"How do I look?" Glenn fidgeted from the front seat.

"Great. For the thousandth time," Michonne assured him.

"You look great too," Glenn turned to look at her. "Silver is your color. Well, everything is your color," he went back to adjusting his dark blue suit.

"Andre," Michonne addressed her son in the back seat, "Doesn't Glenn look great?"

"Yup," Dre answered, eager to be included in the adult conversation.

"Thanks, Dre," Glenn smiled at him.

"It's going to be great," Michonne told him, turning down the street that Google maps had directed them down.

"Is this a farm?" Andre's face was practically pressed to the windows.

"It looks like it," Michonne kept her eyes on the house at the end of the road. She had lived in Atlanta for many years but had never seen anything quite like this before. The house was covered almost entirely in pale gray shutters, with picturesque blue slats on all of the windows. A barn laid to the left of the house, brown and slightly peeling. It did not diminish the overall effect of the place. For a moment, Michonne envied Rick. If ever there was a place in Atlanta to begin your life again, it was here.

"Horses!" Andre's delighted scream again ricocheted around the car.

Michonne glanced out of the window as she parked her car to where her son was gesturing. Half a dozen horses were wandering a fenced in field, draped in blankets. Even Glenn turned to the window with interest.

"Looks like something you'd see on a card," he remarked.

"Should I just park in front of the house?" There was no carport within view.

"I don't know. Maybe call Rick?"

"Hey!" Suddenly, he was in front of her driver's seat window, banging on the car and scaring the hell out of her. "Looking for me?" he asked cheekily. He had a day's worth of stubble on his face, adding color to his wide grin.

"Jerk," she grumbled, stepping out of the car.

"Hey Glenn, hi Dre," Rick opened the door to her backseat and removed Andre from his car seat with practiced ease.

Andre greeted him excitedly, babbling almost incoherently in delight over the horses.

"Thanks for coming," Rick turned at last to Michonne, his smile widening.

"Is Maggie here?" Glenn blurted the question out.

Michonne avoided making eye contact with Rick. Rick adjusted Andre in his arms.

"Might want to take a deep breath or two before you go in there," Rick suggested.

Glenn was already walking off down the front path.

"We better follow him," Michonne reached for her son but Rick seemed content holding him.

"Come on. I'll introduce you," Rick led her to the door.

The warmth was welcome as she crossed over the hearth, her boots knocking on the hard wood floors.

"You must be Michonne Jackson," an older white-haired man set upon her almost immediately. He could have been a double for Santa Claus, except for the fact that he was much trimmer.

"Hershel Greene?" she asked, shaking his hand warmly.

"I've heard great things," he told her.

"Likewise," she assured him. "Thank you so much for having us."

"And this is Andre?" Hershel looked to her son who was now squirming out of his jacket under Rick's watchful eyes.

"Dre, say hello to Mr. Greene," Michonne instructed.

"I'm Glenn," the nervous young man surged forward all at once. "I'm a friend of Maggie's."

"He's a coworker," Michonne hastened to explain. "He and Maggie met at a work function."

Rick placed a hand on Glenn's neck, squeezing just slightly harder than was necessary. "Come meet everyone else," he steered the young man forcibly out of the foyer.

Michonne was introduced in quick succession to Maggie's little sister, Beth, and a friend of Rick's named Daryl. The latter was a man of around Rick's age with shaggy dark brown hair and a face that seemed more comfortable with frowning than smiling. The former was a pretty teenage girl with blonde hair and wide blue eyes that didn't seem to want to move off the surly older man. Daryl, by contrast, seemed content to ignore her completely.

"Dinner's ready!" Maggie emerged from the kitchen in a pretty long sleeved green dress.

"Maggie!" Glenn quickly tried to quell his wide smile with limited success.

"Glenn," Maggie covered her surprise much more masterfully. "What are you doing here?"

"I invited him," Rick explained.

"Who's this?" Beth interrupted the awkward moment by swooping in to meet Andre. The little boy was taking in the whole affair with wide eyes.

"Where's Carl?" he asked.

"We'll see him later, Dre," Michonne quickly stepped in. Rick's face had visibly dropped at the mention of his absent son.

"Well, ready for dinner?" Hershel asked.

They all sat down to the table, Glenn attempting to wrangle a seat next to Maggie. Hershel watched him bemusedly. Rick charitably left the seat open next to Maggie, pulling out the chair next to him for Michonne, depositing Andre to her right and taking the seat at the end of the table across from Hershel. Michonne sat down, watching Beth maneuver next to Daryl. Daryl reluctantly took his seat and turned his head away from the girl to Hershel.

"So, Glenn, what is it you do?" the head of the household asked.

Glenn cleared his throat nervously. "I'm getting my graduate degree. For now, I'm Michonne's assistant."

"My paralegal," Michonne corrected.

"Right." Glenn took a nervous gulp of water. Daryl had turned to the younger man and was watching him with open amusement. He shot a look at Rick over Glenn's head. Rick covered his smile.

"My Maggie's in school as well," Hershel regarded Glenn over his glass of wine.

"I know, sir," Glenn smiled at Maggie. She mustered a weak grin back.

Rick shot Michonne a poorly-disguised look out of the corner of his eye. Michonne hid her laugh under a cough. Daryl watched the two of them, raising an eyebrow at Rick. Andre was straining from his chair to see the horses out of the window. A long silence stretched across the dining room.

"Daddy, did you want to bless the turkey?" Beth spoke up. She reached for Daryl's hand eagerly. Daryl conceded to touching two of her fingers but did not move to hold hands with Hershel. Maggie took her sister's hand and Glenn's. Glenn tried and failed to not look delighted.

"Beth, perhaps you'd be more comfortable on this send of the table," Hershel instructed. "The four of you are crushed together on that side."

Disappointed, Beth moved her place setting besides Andre. She cheered when Andre quickly reached for her hand, grinning at her. Michonne took her son's hand and Rick reached for hers. The calloused surface was firm against her smoother palm. He laced their fingers together in one natural movement, giving her a small smile before he bowed his head.

Michonne was ashamed to admit that she didn't hear much of the blessing, so focused was she on the hand gripping hers. Their fingers laced together like two matching puzzle pieces. She did not want to think too deeply about why her pulse had begun to speed up the moment Rick's hand touched hers.

"How do you and Rick know one another?" Michonne asked Daryl as the plates began to pass around, determined to engage the quiet man in conversation.

"We run this group thing together," Daryl's voice almost seemed rusty from disuse. "Now I help out around here a few days a week."

"I'm showing him how to be a farm boy," Rick threw in, grinning at Daryl.

"Did you grow up in the city?" Michonne again directed her question at the dark-haired man.

"Nah. Backwoods. Worked more on mechanics than animals."

"He's a great hunter though," Rick spoke for his friend. "Bags a deer every time we go out."

Daryl shrugged, uncomfortable with the attention. "You Rick's lawyer?" he asked her.

"And friend," Rick again spoke up.

"What's this group you run?" it was Maggie who asked this time. Michonne was glad. Rick had never mentioned a group to her.

"Troubled kids, that kind of thing," Rick answered. Daryl seemed to have exhausted his word quota for the day. He was shoveling turkey into his mouth.

"That is so sweet," Beth simpered, her eyes on the man eating across from her.

Hershel shot her a warning look. "You ought to do some community service, girls. Keep yourself out of trouble."

"I could babysit this handsome guy," Beth turned her attentions to Andre. He was diligently attempting to spoon mashed potatoes and gravy into his mouth.

"I wouldn't say no," Michonne smiled at her.

"The food is great," Glenn spoke up. "Did you cook it all, Maggie?"

"Beth and I," she answered without looking at Glenn, sipping her wine.

"I made the pie," Beth piped up.

Another silence stretched between them.

"Well, everybody loves pie," Rick looked at Michonne, desperately trying not to laugh.

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"That wasn't so bad," Rick informed Michonne after dinner. He was stationed at the sink, washing the plates and cups.

"Let me help," she moved forward to assist but Rick boxed her out.

"Can't have you ruining that beautiful dress," he smiled at her.

"At least let me dry." She reached for a dish towel.

"Where's Dre?" he asked.

"Beth took him outside to look at the horses," Michonne liked the young woman already. She was a natural with Andre.

"She's good with kids," Rick seemingly read her thoughts. "Had Glenn got a hold of himself?"

Michonne giggled. "I think so. He was talking to Hershel about barn construction."

"Thrilling," Rick laughed.

"Your friend is with them," Michonne added. "He's not much of a talker."

"Nah, that's not Dixon's style." Rick rinsed suds off of a dinner plate.

"That whole brooding thing. Women love it," Michonne nodded with another giggle.

"Not you too," Rick exhaled dramatically. "Beth's lost her mind over him already."

Michonne's laughter increased. "Lots of love-struck people at that dinner table."

"It appears so," Rick smiled.

"How are you?" she'd been meaning to ask all night. The first holiday without a loved one was always the hardest.

"Hanging in there," he shut off the sink. "I'm going to call Carl soon."

"You should," she told him. "I'll finish up here."

"It can wait a few minutes," he assured her.

"I always miss Mike on days like this," she told him, stacking the plate with the other dried utensils. "It was nice to shake up the holiday this year."

"Watching Glenn moon over Maggie and Beth drool over Daryl?" Rick did laugh then.

"Best dinner entertainment I've had in a while," Michonne lapsed into giggles again.

"Once I'm done talking to Carl, I can take you around to see the horses," he finished his task, shaking soapy hands into the sink.

"I'd like that," Michonne handed him the dish towel. He thanked her.

"Glenn and Maggie can finish up in here," he told her, leading her out of the kitchen. "Do you mind hanging out with Hershel and Daryl until l come back?"

"Not at all," she headed towards the living room. "Tell Carl I say hello."

"Will do," he smiled at her, already pulling out of his phone.

Only Daryl was stationed on the couch when Michonne entered the living room, sitting contently.

"Where is everybody?" she asked, taking a seat next to him.

"The old man is outside with Beth and your kid, and the other two ran off somewhere," Daryl smirked.

Michonne rolled her eyes. "To be young."

Daryl nodded, watching her carefully from under his hair. "What's with you and Rick?" he asked her.

"What do you mean?" Michonne crossed her legs, determined to keep control of this situation. This question was coming up quite a lot lately.

"Do you like him?" he asked.

Michonne laughed. "Obviously. We're friends."

"You know what I mean," Daryl was not fooled.

Michonne tilted her head, fixing Daryl with her best work stare. "Why do you ask?"

Daryl shrugged. "Rick's a good guy."

"He is. That doesn't answer my question." Michonne raised a brow.

"You didn't answer mine," Daryl mirrored her actions.

The two stared at one another for a few moments, neither breaking first.

"You could do a lot worse," Daryl said at last.

Michonne could think of no response. It was one thing for her coworkers to tease her about her relationship with the police officer. It was another for his friend to ask.

She was blessedly saved from answering by the sound of Rick swearing in the hallway. Michonne turned back to the noise, then Daryl. Daryl shrugged again.

"Go check on him," he said simply.

Michonne hopped up as Rick's swearing continued, worried now. She found him in the hallway, staring at the phone in his hand like it had insulted him.

"Shane's there," he looked up at her when she walked in.

"At your house?" Michonne asked.

"With Carl." Rick looked livid.

"How do you know?" she approached him.

"Carl told me. I could hear him in the background." Rick's chest was heaving angrily. "Carl said Shane has been talking about me. He asked why we aren't friends anymore."

"Shit," Michonne breathed.

"I'm going over there," Rick spun on his heel. Michonne hastened after him.

"Rick, you cannot do that."

"Why the hell not?" Rick was shoving his feet into his boots by the door. Michonne seized her coat, following him outside.

"You are so close, Rick, so close to being done with this. Don't give Lori a reason to slide everything backwards."

"Even if we get divorced and share custody, that asshole is in my house, trying to be Carl's dad." Rick fumbled for his keys, heading for his truck. Michonne sped up her steps, getting around him and between him and the vehicle. The air outside was frigid but Rick didn't seem to notice. He hadn't even grabbed a jacket in his haste to get outdoors.

"Rick, think about this for just a moment." She pressed her hand to his chest to stop him. "Shane could be trying to get you to come over there. He could be trying to ruin this for you."

Rick exhaled heavily. Michonne pressed her advantage. "He wants you to lose control. He wants Carl to see it. He's playing the long con."

"He's there, with _my_ family. He stole it." Rick's distress was clear.

"Lori chose him," Michonne said the hard truth. "But Carl loves you. What did he say on the phone, Rick?"

"What do you mean?" Rick's eyes found hers.

"When you talked. Who did Carl talk most about?" she knew the answer already, but she needed Rick to think about it.

"Me," Rick said quietly. "He asked about me."

"Did he sound happy that Shane was there instead of you?" she prompted.

"No." Rick was already beginning to deflate.

"Then there's no reason to go over there and ruin his Thanksgiving. You miss each other, that's understandable. Don't ruin this. Let me handle Shane."

Rick looked at her for a long moment. "Are you always this level-headed?" he asked at last.

"I know all about anger," she told him. "It is never worth it." Flashbacks were playing out in her mind, flashbacks of the night she had gotten the news about Mike. "My husband was killed," she told Rick, her voice heavy with emotion. She hated talking about this, but he needed to hear it. "He had this best friend. I couldn't stand him, but Mike loved him so I put up with him. He was an idiot. Mike was always bailing him out."

Rick watched her quietly, his eyes unmoving.

"One night they were out together, and this friend of his was running his mouth, as usual. He ran it off to the wrong guys. They pulled a gun." Michonne swallowed hard, looking around to make sure Dre wasn't in earshot. "Mike died in the hospital. The friend lived."

"Michonne," Rick moved forward towards her. She plowed on with her story.

"Rick, I was angry. I wanted to kill that man. I seriously considered it. My Mike was dead, Andre's father gone, all for this fool. He never even apologized. Just slithered off. I wanted to find him. I wanted to—" she cut herself off. She was going back down a dark place. "I would have thrown it all away. I would have left Andre on his own, would have ruined my career, all to get even. Everyday, I'm glad I didn't do it. Every damn day." She wiped tears from her eyes, embarrassed by her sudden expression of emotion.

All at once, she was being pressed into Rick's chest and he crushed her in a hug. "I'm so sorry," he murmured into the top of her head. "I'm so sorry," he repeated.

"You still have Carl," she told him, craning her head up to be sure he heard her. "Don't ruin it by letting yourself be angry. It doesn't help."

A cold breeze kicked up. Michonne could feel Rick's skin prickle around her. Rick ignored it. "Thank you," he told her, releasing her and pocketing his keys.

Michonne just nodded, eager to get back in the house. She started back off down the path, Rick on her heels.

"Did you want to see the horses?" he asked her quietly.

"Maybe in a moment. I want to check on Dre." She couldn't quite meet his eyes.

"All right," he followed her.

Daryl was in the house waiting when they came in. He gave Michonne a knowing look.

"Everything ok?" he asked them.

"It's fine," Rick told him.

"Good," he wandered away.

"I'll take you to see Dre," Rick told Michonne. She nodded at him. He seized his jacket and they headed back outside again, this time towards the barn. They walked in silence for a while, broken only by the rustling off their footsteps. Rick glanced at her from the side of his eye, but Michonne could not bring herself to look at him. He looked like he wanted to talk, but thought better of it.

Suddenly, he reached out for her, seizing her hand and lacing his fingers with hers, the way he had at the dinner table.

"Thank you," he told her, squeezing.

Michonne found the strength to look at him.

"You're welcome," she said.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: I'm blown away by the response to this story thank you all so much for reviewing and favoriting and following! I look forward to reading all**

 **of your feedback! Here goes chapter 9...**

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"Carl, I'm going to ask you one last time. Where did you get this?"

Rick held the smartphone up in front of his son. Carl was sitting at the kitchen table, his hands pressed flat to the surface, refusing to meet his eye.

"Shane gave it to me," the answer came quietly, almost unintelligibly.

Rick sighed, placing the phone between them on the table.

"Why did Shane give you a phone?" he asked, trying to keep his voice even. He needed Carl to talk to him. He'd meant to surprise him this morning by taking him on a ride to see the snow an hour or so north. He thought he would wake him up, but instead found Carl texting under the sheets. Lori and Rick had agreed that Carl was much too young for a phone, even now that they were splitting their time with him. The discovery had been an unpleasant surprise.

Carl sat quietly, still staring at the woodgrain of the table.

"Carl, you have got to talk to me," Rick implored.

"Why aren't you friends with Shane anymore?" Carl asked, his eyes still downcast.

"Why do you ask?" Rick felt his stomach drop.

"You guys are never around at the same time…and when he's there, there's some other guy at the house, like he's watching us." Carl worried the toe of his slipper along the floor. "And this kid at school showed me a video…"

Rick sighed. "I was hoping you never had to see that."

"You beat each other up," Carl glanced up at him.

"It's not something I'm proud of, son," Rick needed Carl to know that. "I should have kept a cooler head than that. I wish I could go back and not do it." It was hard enough to keep calm now. He was still fuming about Shane and the phone.

"What did he do?" Carl asked, fixing his eyes back on the ground.

Rick took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, trying to figure out the best way to go about this. "He wants to date your mom," Rick finally settled on the simplified version.

"Does she want to date him?" Carl's barely got the words out.

"Yes." Rick waited, letting that information sink in. He desperately wished for a way to simplify this for his son, to take this burden of knowledge away from him.

"Were they dating when you were in the hospital?" Carl continued his line of questioning.

"What makes you think that?" Rick's stomach was in knots. Carl shouldn't have to go through this, shouldn't have to question his parents' trustworthiness.

"He was always around. Him and mom used to whisper. I thought they were talking about you, but now…" Carl sighed. Rick wrapped his arm around him. "Why didn't you tell me?" Carl looked up at his father. Rick was taken aback by his expression. He almost looked angry.

"I didn't want you to hate your mom," Rick shrugged his shoulders.

"Did you think I wouldn't find out?" there was no mistaking the anger this time.

"I'd hoped that you wouldn't, not for a while. Not until I had things sorted."

Carl sat silently, stewing in this new information. "Is that why he gave me this phone? So that I would like him?"

"I can't say Carl. Why did you accept it from him?" it was Rick's turn to start asking questions again.

Carl shrugged, swallowing hard. "He said it was so we could talk again. We used to talk a lot when you were shot."

Rick quelled his emotions, "And you missed talking to him?"

"Yeah," Carl was sniffling now. "I only talked to him because I thought you guys were friends…I didn't know—" he succumbed at last to his emotions, sobbing quietly into the sleeve of his pajamas.

Rick stood up, moving across the table to sit next to his son. "I'm not mad at you Carl; I'm upset that you wouldn't tell me the truth about this." He pointed to the phone.

"You didn't tell me the truth about mom," it was an accusation.

"No I didn't. I was trying to figure out a way to tell you," Rick admitted.

"Do you hate her?" Carl asked through sniffles.

Rick considered this question. "I could never hate her. She gave me you." That was the honest truth.

"But you hate Shane," Carl stated this as fact.

This answer was considerably more difficult. "I'm angry at Shane. We've been friends since we were your age." Rick sighed, glancing up at the ceiling. "But he might be in your mom's life for a while. Which means he might be in your life." Rick looked down at his son. "I guess it's time that I asked you what _you_ think of Shane."

Carl looked surprised by the question. "I used to like him. A lot. Especially when…" his son swallowed hard. "When you were in the hospital he came around a lot. He made me less sad."

Rick turned his eyes away from his son, momentarily. He knew exactly what Carl was feeling. He had been so grateful to wake up and find his best friend watching over his family. The thought had never even occurred to him that Lori's sudden surge of affection for Shane had been more than friendly.

"How do you feel about him now? What's he like with you?" this was an important question, one that had been haunting Rick all weekend. Was it unfair of him to remove Shane from Carl's life?

"Different," Carl answered immediately. "Like's he's trying to replace you." Carl kicked the leg of the table angrily. "I don't like it."

Rick touched his son, feeling relieved and angry all at once. "Would you like me to talk to him?"

"No," Carl sniffled, wiping his nose. "I don't want you to fight. They might take me away."

"I'd never let that happen," Rick assured him. "It's you and me to the end, kid."

"Is Miss Jackson good at her job?" Carl asked.

"Very," Rick nodded.

"She's going to make it so I can live with you?"

"You'll live with both of us. Me on the weekends and in the summers."

"Not all the time?"

"You don't want to live with your mom?" Rick had never considered the possibility.

"She's moody lately. And always whispering on the phone. Plus," Carl smiled conspiratorially through wet tear streaks. "She's getting kinda chubby."

"Chubby?" Rick hadn't noticed any weight gain. Then again, he wasn't really looking at Lori too much these days.

"Yup," Carl nodded emphatically. "You can't see it when she's wearing sweaters, but sometimes in the house I can tell. Like this." Carl pushed his stomach out.

Rick felt like someone had just punched him in the gut. He swallowed the feeling and focused on the subject at hand. "Carl, do you really not want to see your mom?"

Carl's smile dropped. "I would miss her. But I already kinda do miss her, you know?"

Rick swallowed again. "Yeah, Carl. I know."

"Do you think she'll marry Shane?" Carl asked.

"I don't know…" Rick wouldn't have thought so, but that reported mysterious lump under Lori's sweater made him rethink that. "It's really up to them."

"Then Shane would be my dad?"

" _Step_ -dad," Rick emphasized.

"Would you get married again?" Carl looked up at him seriously.

"I'm not sure, Carl," Rick shook his head. "If I do, it won't be for a long while."

"I would be ok with it, if you did," Carl told him.

"That's good to know," Rick found himself smiling.

"Maybe you could marry Miss Jackson. Then I could have a brother," Carl looked hopeful.

Rick privately thought there was a very real possibility that Carl would be a brother sometime in the upcoming year, but did not speak of it. Instead, he said, "Miss Jackson, huh? Why would she make a good wife?"

"She's smart," Carl said. "And pretty. And she doesn't let people boss her around but she's still nice."

Rick was impressed. Most boys his age weren't nearly so perceptive. "And you would have a little brother."

Carl grinned. "That too."

"Maybe you'll get a little brother one day," Rick told him, "but you still can't have a phone." He reached for the device in front of them.

"That's ok. I didn't really like it anyway," Carl took it out of his dad's hand and unlocked it, handing it back to him. "I mostly just played games on there."

Rick scrolled through it, noticing that most of the data seemed dedicated to race car games and fighting games. He opened the messages to see only one number that he would bet belonged to Shane. The conversations were largely one-sided. Shane had been asking Carl about his day, trying to get him to open up.

"Did he text you a lot?" Rick set the phone back down.

"Kind of," Carl looked nervous. "I think he just wanted to talk to me. We never really get to talk when he's at the house."

"What does he ask?" Rick had read through the texts but wanted Carl to tell him.

"How I'm doing. If I want to go to the movies sometimes…"

Rick took a deep breath, deciding on the best course of action. "Does your mom know?"

"I don't think so," Carl drummed his fingers on the table. "She's never seen my phone."

"Ok," Rick powered the phone off. "I'm going to have to talk to her about this."

"Am I in trouble?" Carl asked.

"I'll decide on your punishment later. Never keep something like this from me, or your mom, again, ok?" Rick looked at his son seriously.

"Ok," Carl agreed emphatically.

"Go back to bed," Rick instructed. "I'll wake you up in a bit."

Carl stood up obediently and made his way back towards the hallway to the bedrooms, his socked feet slipping on the hardwood.

"Hey dad," he called back. "I'm really sorry."

Rick felt his heart break. Carl was too young for all of this drama. "I know, son," he assured him. He sat at the table with that phone in his hand for a long while, processing. He needed to talk to someone about this, about how he should react. He knew he could wake up Hershel and that his advice would be sound. It wasn't his mentor's voice that Rick wanted to hear right now.

He pulled his own phone out and laid it on the table next to the other, contemplating. He hadn't talked to Michonne in days. It was amazing how accustomed he had become to her calming presence, whether by text or in person. Now he was questioning whether she'd even want to hear from him. She had bared something deeply personal about herself that night, something Rick wasn't sure she had been ready to share. She had departed on a slightly awkward note, one he was sure no one but himself had noticed. Something had shifted in the air between them, a casual friendship becoming something new. She hadn't called or messaged him since. Rick wasn't sure what to say to her now. They had crossed some boundary she had set for herself, and she seemed upset about it.

Rick wanted to call, wanted to talk to her. Licking his lips nervously, he picked up his phone and hit her contact information.

The phone rang three times before going to voicemail. Rick cleared his throat.

"Hey, Michonne. Sorry to call this early…" he paused, searching for his next words. "I'd like to talk to you, if you have time. Part of it's work, and part of it's personal. Call me back, please." He hung up, kicking himself for sounding like some guilty child. He set the phone back down on the table, staring at it like he was waiting for something.

It sat there silently, unmoving.

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This was the address. Michonne had triple checked it before leaving the office this morning.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Glenn asked from the passenger's seat. He was looking at her without judgement, but with concern.

She nodded. "This is the only way I know it will get done," she repeated.

Glenn nodded. "But don't you want to call him first?"

"No need." Michonne had already convinced herself. With a deep breath, she checked her reflection in the rearview mirror and exited the car.

Rick's old neighborhood was quiet in the late hours of the morning; most of the families in this area were at church. Michonne's heels beat a quiet tattoo up the concrete path to the modest home. She took in everything, from the frosted over yard, browning in the onslaught of cold weather, to the bushes lining the front of the house. It was a well-kept place, like the owners had been proud of it. She could imagine Rick out here in the summers, tending to the lawn, playing with Carl. She wondered where his wife had fit into all of this.

She paused at the brown front door for just a moment, then rang the bell.

It was Shane Walsh who opened the door, but Michonne was more than prepared for this possibility.

"Good morning, Officer Walsh," she greeted him with the air of someone remarking on the weather, content to ignore his surly expression.

"The hell are you doin' here?" Shane openly scowled at her.

"I'm glad you asked," Michonne held up a manila envelope with a flourish. "It has come to my attention that you and Mrs. Grimes violated the judge's orders concerning your paternity agreement."

"What the f—" Shane opened his mouth, gearing up for a fight.

Michonne cut him off by pushing the envelope squarely into his chest. He fumbled with the paper, wrinkling it as he scrambled to get a hold of it.

"You've been served, Officer Walsh," she continued to use her pleasant voice, even adding a smile for good measure. "I look forward to seeing the two of you in court."

Shane stood gaping like some great fish, his mouth emitting curse words almost mechanically. "Lori!" he called backwards into the house. Michonne knew she should turn on her heel and go back to her car, but she longed to come eye to eye with this woman.

The door opened wider to reveal Lori, clutching a terrycloth robe around her, her hair mussed and frizzy.

"Mrs. Grimes," Michonne began again, chipper as ever, "As I just informed your partner, you two are expected in court next week. You violated your custody agreement," Michonne clicked her tongue. "The judge would like to see you both."

Lori paled visibly, her robe falling open as she snatched the envelope from Shane and hastily opened it. Her eyes roved over the words, her brow furrowing as she read. Shane continued to glare at Michonne but she simply smiled in return.

"What does this mean?" Lori asked at last, her eyes on the lawyer.

"It could mean whatever the judge wants it to mean. Although, in my experience, judges do not take kindly to their instructions being disregarded," Michonne shrugged as though the whole thing was inconsequential.

"Could I lose Carl?" there was real worry in Lori's voice now. Shane started to speak up but the waifish woman silenced him. "Could I lose Carl?" she repeated.

"Perhaps," Michonne told her honestly. She might have had pity for this woman in another life she looked stressed out, from her frizzy hair to the bags beneath her eyes however, Michonne remained firmly in Rick's corner. She had come here to accomplish something and she would be damned if she left it unfinished

"What can I do?" Lori's carefully controlled exterior was beginning to crack, the tendrils of panic creeping into her tone.

"I'm not sure I understand the question," Michonne asked innocently.

"What can I do so I don't lose Carl?" Lori repeated. Shane watched her intensely, relegated to the backburner of the conversation.

"Officer Grimes is a reasonable man," Michonne pretended to consider Lori's questions. "He is ready to settle the divorce and the proposed custody agreement on certain conditions."

"Name them," Lori spoke up immediately.

"You sign the divorce papers," Michonne produced them from inside her pea coat with a flourish. "And agree to give Officer Grimes Halloween in addition to the holidays you offered in your custody proposal."

"Ok," Lori was nodding, reaching for the papers, ignoring Shane's protests.

"And Officer Walsh," Michonne turned her attentions to Shane as Lori leaned over to a small table, her pen scratching across the pages in rapid succession, "If you ever want to see Carl Grimes again, I suggest you follow the procedures laid out by the judge. Otherwise, you will find yourself standing in front of him."

If looks could kill, Shane's gaze would have dropped her dead. Michonne took the papers back that Lori handed her, looking at the woman that had once held her friend's heart. There was a small, but pronounced bump protruding through the folds of her robe. Michonne's eyed it, then looked up at Lori's face. The woman blushed deeply.

"Is that something Officer Grimes needs to worry about?" Michonne asked with a raised brow.

"That's got nothin' to do with him," it was Shane's angry voice which answered.

"He'll be glad to hear it," Michonne tucked the paperwork away. "You two have a great day," she spun on her heel and clicked back down the sidewalk, ignoring the two pairs of eyes burning holes in her back. She heard the front door shut with a pronounced thud, and then Lori's raised voice behind it. She ignored the sounds, instead crossing over to her car and climbing inside.

"Well?" Glenn was looking at her with amusement.

"Rick Grimes is officially divorced," she told him with a small smile.

"Damn, you're scary," Glenn said fondly, smiling at her.

Michonne just started the car and pulled off.

"Where are we going?" Glenn asked, cranking the radio up. Christmas music was playing out of the speakers. Michonne hummed along.

"I think we better bring these papers straight to Rick," she said simply, merging onto the freeway.

"What do you think he's going to say?" Glenn asked.

"We'll see soon," Michonne glanced down at her phone. She had a missed call and a message from her friend and client. She contemplated calling him back, but settled against it. Rick deserved a pleasant surprise. She was going to give it to him.

"I'm texting Maggie that we're coming," Glenn told her. "Just in case." Michonne glanced at him curiously. "She didn't like me surprising her last week," he admitted on a blush.

"Looks like she forgave you," Michonne nodded to his phone which was blinking with multiple messages from the girl in question.

"We've got a date," Glenn burst out, smiling widely.

"Then it looks like there's good news all the way around." Michonne's mind wandered back to that baby bump under Lori's robe. She would have to tell Rick. For a moment, her stomach dropped. If the baby was her friend's, things just gotten decidedly more complicated.

She hadn't talked to Rick in a few days and she had to admit that she missed his presence. Now he knew something deeply personal about her, something she did not share with casual friends. Michonne wasn't sure how he was taking the new knowledge. He had been silent for the last few days, perhaps processing where he was going to go from here. She knew he was furious at Shane, furious at Lori. Michonne did not want him to do anything that would hurt his reputation in the eyes of the court or Carl. She had decided Friday morning that she was going to get his divorce papers signed. Lori had given her all of the leverage she needed to ensure it. This new complication though...Rick would not take this well.

She shook the thought away. The here and now was the only thing she could do something about. She would ask Rick what he wanted to do about Shane later. She hoped he would be practical in his decision. The grumpy police officer did not seem likely to go anywhere soon.

"You ok?" Glenn asked her, noticing that she had stopped humming.

"I'm good," she assured him, exiting the freeway.

"Nervous?" Glenn wasn't fooled.

Michonne shot him a look from the corner of her eye. "I'm fine."

Glenn held his hands up. "Sure thing."

They rode in silence until Michonne pulled up into the long driveway of Hershel's home. Rick was already standing on the porch, his breath frosting in front of him. Michonne made eye contact through the front window, her stomach churning.

"You have some news for me?" Rick called out as she opened her car door.

"I do," Michonne got out, clutching the papers and trying to steel her nerves.

"Let's hear it." Rick said.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Reading all of your reviews is becoming one of the highlights of my day! You're kind words and support are remarkable. It makes me want to write even faster. Thank you all! Here's Chapter 10...**

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Rick led Michonne towards the back of the porch, out of the way from wandering eyes. It wasn't even 10 in the morning yet and he felt completely exhausted. He had still been sitting at the kitchen table, pondering over his next move regarding Carl and the phone when Maggie stumbled into the kitchen, trying to brush her hair and teeth at the same time.

"Glenn says that he and Michonne are driving over here," she had told him through a mouthful of foam, before rushing back into the bathroom.

"Why?" he had called after her, checking his phone for a message that had not been there.

"She's got something for you!" Maggie had hollered back, not bothering to emerge from the bathroom.

The young woman's frantic preparations had thrown into sharp relief the fact that Rick was still dressed in his own pajamas. He had hurried up the stairs to throw on a pair of jeans and a well-worn cotton shirt, just managing to get the long-sleeved garment over his head when he heard the tires of the car pulling up to the house.

He was waiting for her at the front of the house by the time she parked.

"Do you see Glenn?" Maggie had whispered urgently through the window.

"He's in the car," Rick glanced curiously at her over his shoulder.

"Is he getting out?"

"Maggie, just come out here," Rick wasn't in the mood for this.

Maggie just sighed dramatically and relinquished her place on the other side of the wall. Rick was not sad to see her go; his mind was on things other than her adolescent drama.

Michonne was bundled up tightly in a long black coat, her hands tucked deep into her pockets. The air was chilly around them, but Rick still directed her to the side porch. He did not want anyone overhearing them.

"How are you?" she asked him, leaning against the railing to face him in the low light of the day.

"It's been a hell of a morning," he told her honestly. The chill was prickling at his skin but he did not mind the cold; it kept him alert.

"I think I'm about to make it a little more complicated," she sounded almost sorry to inconvenience him. Rick smiled at her reassuringly. It was rare that he got to see Michonne not exuding confidence. Something was bothering her, of that he was sure.

"What have you got for me?" he asked her.

"Funny you should say that…" Michonne smiled wryly. She reached into her coat, undoing the buttons and exposing a gray sweater and jeans beneath. She removed an envelope from her inner pocket. "I went by your old house this morning," she told him, handing him the papers.

Rick felt a little surge of surprise. Whatever he had been expecting, it had not been that. He glanced down at the papers in his grasp.

"Are these—" he could not bring himself to finish the sentence. His eyes were fixed on Lori's signature, seeing but not believing.

"Divorce papers," Michonne nodded. "Lori signed them not long ago. Shane was there." Michonne took a deep, shaky breath, bringing his attention back to her. She looked incredibly nervous.

"What is it?" Rick wanted to touch her, to somehow ensure her that whatever it was, he did not blame her. He kept his hands firmly on the papers.

"Lori's pregnant," Michonne pronounced this bombshell all in one breath.

Rick felt his stomach flip. "Carl mentioned something this morning that made me think so," he admitted.

Michonne sighed. "You have a choice, Rick," she took the papers gently from his hand, smoothing them out on the banister of the railing. "You can sign these papers, take the custody agreement and be free of Lori."

"But…" he prompted, knowing that there was a catch.

"If the baby is yours…we might have to go through this whole song and dance all over again." Michonne fixed her round, dark eyes on him, "but you would need to make sure the baby gets tested once he or she is born. Which means we might be in court with Lori for a long time."

Rick rubbed his eyes. He was tired, so tired. He wished he could just have a day spent simply with his son, or a visit with Michonne where his life didn't seem determined to all go to hell.

"If I sign…will I lose rights to the baby if it's mine?"

Michonne shook her head. "No," she assured him. "You can sign now and your marriage is over. Lori agreed to the custody agreement in exchange for the judge not finding out about Thanksgiving. What you need to decide is do you want to fight for this baby, even though it may not be yours?"

Rick exhaled. "So just another easy choice then," he chuckled bitterly.

"If you bring up the baby, she could drag the custody agreement out for a very long time," Michonne told him truthfully. "We would need to wait for paternity results. If she doesn't want to give them…we may have to sue her for the results." Those wide brown eyes found his again, brimming with sympathy.

"And if it's Shane's?" he asked.

"Then it's nothing you need to worry about. And nothing you have control over," she added.

Rick felt his mind swimming.

"Rick, I am so sorry," Michonne reached out for his hand, her cool fingers covering his own. It was the first time they had touched since Thanksgiving. Rick remembered the feeling of her skin intimately, as if he had memorized every crevice in her palm.

"What would you do?" he asked her. He was in desperate need of guidance, and she was the only one who came close to understanding his predicament.

"I wouldn't decide today," she answered immediately. "I would sign the divorce papers and then meditate on the rest." She took a step closer to him. "The baby isn't going anywhere. Take some time to really consider your options."

"Just when I think it's finally coming together…" Rick could not help but to lament his situation. Michonne's fingers tightened around his own. "Shane gave Carl a phone. Carl claims his mom doesn't know." He needed Michonne to have all of the information at hand.

"Asshole," she cursed, looking like she wanted to jump in the car and drive back to his place. "I wish I had known that this morning."

"You might have if you picked up your phone," Rick chided gently.

Michonne looked slightly embarrassed. "I wanted to have good news for you, the next time we talked. I wasn't expecting to find a baby bump."

Rick chuckled despite himself, feeling validated by her anger. "Carl's seen the video," Rick told her.

Michonne nodded solemnly. "It was only a matter of time," she wet her lips nervously. "What did he say?"

"He asked what happened. I told him the simplified version," Rick could barely recall the words he had used just an hour ago. "I had all kinds of plans for today," he told her, smiling wryly. "I was going to drive Carl up to see the snow. We were going to get a jump on Christmas spirit. Now I just want to go back to bed," he chuckled.

"I can't blame you," her fingers were absentmindedly tracing the rough curve of his fingernails. Rick's eyes were drawn to their hands. He couldn't remember the last time he had just held hands with someone. Now he was standing here, linked up with his lawyer and feeling like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Are we ok?" he asked her. He knew he should be preoccupied about the situation with Lori, and he was. However, there was no point in pretending that this separation from Michonne over the last few days had not bothered him.

"What do you mean?" her eyes widened in surprise. She attempted to remove her hand, but Rick grabbed it, holding it gently in place.

"We haven't talked since….Since you told me about Mike," he hated to bring it up again. He could see the look in her eyes whenever her husband came up. Michonne was tough, of that he was absolutely certain. Everything about her was polished, confident, practiced to perfection, but Rick knew a wall when he saw one.

"Oh," Michonne sighed, lowering her eyes. "It was just a lot to process. Sasha is the only other person who knows that about me," she confided.

"Why'd you tell me?" he felt compelled to ask. That short, intensely personal story had been tumbling around in his head for days on end.

Michonne paused, her eyes widening, almost as though she were afraid. "I guess," she trailed off again, searching for words. "I guess that you get me, Rick Grimes. More than anyone else has in a while." She looked down again.

Rick found himself smiling, despite the last few hours of his life. "You know what I want to do now?" he asked her lightly.

"What?" she dragged her eyes back up to his face, matching his airy tone.

"I want to do something Christmas-y," he told her.

"I thought you wanted to go back to bed," she teased.

Rick felt his skin begin to heat up as he looked at Michonne's face, his eyes lingering on that tiny little smirk of hers. Some very indecent thoughts about going back to bed ran through his mind. He was surprised at himself. He figured it'd be months before he even looked at another woman. And sure, he'd noticed that she was beautiful. He wasn't blind and he had definitely looked; but she was his lawyer and his friend and confidant. He snapped himself out of it.

"I want to do something Christmas-y with my son," he began again, "and my best friend."

"So, you need to call Daryl?" she asked innocently.

Rick paused for a moment, thinking she missed the point he was trying to make. Then her lips quirked again.

"Brat," he smiled, rolling his eyes. "Do we need to go get Andre?" he asked her.

She sighed. "He's with Mike's mom. She wanted him for the holiday weekend." She removed her hand from atop Rick's to smooth her fingers through the kinky curls on her head.

"So let me distract you," he took a step closer to her, resisting the urge to grasp her hand again. "You did such a great job for me this past Thursday."

Michonne laughed, a light tinkling sound. "I have Glenn with me," she told him.

"Let Maggie handle Glenn," Rick laughed, shrugging. "She's running around her getting pretty for him anyway."

"All right," she conceded, "What do you have in mind?"

"You need to change first." He grinned. "And I need to ask Hershel for a favor."

88888

"Rick," Michonne looked completely unsure from her perch.

"I've got you," Rick chuckled under his breath, adjusting her leg.

"I don't think I can do this," she began again, attempting to get down.

"Michonne," he stilled her with a hand to her knee, "trust me."

"Ok," she tried straightening up but nearly toppled over.

"Squeeze with your knees," he instructed.

Michonne complied, but began to wiggle in her seat again as her mount leapt forward.

"Maybe you should help her," this gentle suggestion came from Carl. He was sitting his horse with considerably more comfort than Michonne. Maggie's lessons were paying off.

"Go on ahead," Rick told him, nodding his head forward. "Tell Maggie and Beth we'll catch up."

Carl nodded, eager to please after this morning's incident. "You're doing great, Miss Jackson," he said kindly, directing his horse to trot past her.

Michonne looked at him skeptically as he rode past. She glanced back down at Rick, an unspoken plea for help in her dark eyes.

"Ok," Rick bit back a laugh, enjoying seeing her so out of her element. "Here's what we're going to do." He handed her the reins.

"Rick," panic was creeping into her voice.

"Just hold the reins still," he smiled confidently at her before swinging himself up onto the horse behind her. She gasped a bit as his leg came close behind her. "Scoot up?" he asked her politely.

Michonne moved slowly, shimmying up towards the front. Their horse took a step forward and she rocked unsteadily again. Rick reached forward, positioning her hands correctly.

"You've got to relax," he chuckled.

"This isn't really my thing," Michonne admitted.

"Really?" Rick asked sarcastically, nudging the horse forward. Michonne gave a start, her whole body tightening straight backwards into his. "Relax," he repeated, covering her hands with his.

"Ok," she agreed, taking a deep breath.

"This is fun, I promise," he assured her.

"Is it?" she asked through gritted teeth.

"We're going to take a short ride. You're going to love it," he guided them out of the barn, using the soothing voice he used when the horses got spooked.

"Rick," Michonne turned her head slightly to look over her shoulder at him, "You're talking to me like I'm a child."

He had to laugh. "I'm trying to get you to—"

"Relax," she sighed. "I know."

"Just lean back into me," he instructed.

"Can the poor horse hold two of us?" she seemed worried now.

"We aren't going far," Rick patted the horse's mane. "Penny can handle it."

"Penny?" Michonne laughed, her eyes on the copper-colored mane of the horse they were on.

"Beth named her, apparently." Rick took advantage of her brief moment of calm to speed them up a bit. He felt Michonne tense again. The air around them was cold; Michonne had traded her formal black coat for an old leather one of Rick's. She was wrapped in the brown fabric, holding on for dear life. Apparently, his lawyer was a woman of many talents, but riding was not one of them.

"You do this a lot?" she asked him, her breath hitching.

"Ride? All of the time," he took one hand off the reins and settled it around her waist, keeping her from toppling off. He thought perhaps that she would protest in some way, but she leaned into his grasp.

"Have you ever fallen off?" she tried to sound airy.

"Once or twice," Rick admitted. "Nothing too bad." He scooted forward into her, pulling her body closer to his. "I won't let you fall," he assured her. "Don't worry."

Michonne nodded, still obviously nervous. "Carl is pretty good," she observed. The top of his head was just visible in the brush up ahead. They were riding through the trees beyond Hershel's property, making their way steadily uphill.

"He's a fast learner," Rick told her, unable to disguise the pride in his voice.

"Must be nice," she relaxed just a fraction, glancing around at their environment, "Living out here. It's so quiet."

"I like it," Rick tried to focus on their conversation and not the way she was bouncing into his lap with every step Penny took. "You should come over more often. I'll give you riding lessons," he joked.

"One might be enough," she laughed. "I thought we were going to do something for the holidays," she griped without any real venom.

"We are," he nudged her gently, "just be patient."

"Fine," she mock pouted. "But next time, I get to pick the activity."

"Fair enough," he conceded. "What do you want to do?"

"I could use help picking a tree," she admitted. "Mike used to be really into it. I haven't been able to bring myself to get one since he died."

"You haven't had a Christmas tree in years?" he asked, surprised.

"We've had a fake one," she sounded slightly ashamed. "But nothing real. Not for two years."

Two years. Rick finally had his answer to how long she'd been widowed. "I'd be honored to help you," he told her.

She chuckled. "Always so proper," she teased. "A real Southern gent."

"Down to the horse," he teased right back.

The ground around them began to slope up but Penny handled the incline without any problem. The air was colder here and Rick could feel Michonne shiver a bit. He wrapped his arms tighter around her, covering her exposed hands.

"You don't need to—" she began.

"Can't have a lady shivering on a horse," he cut her off. "My Southern sensibilities won't allow it." She laughed again and Rick found himself smiling. "Maggie has blankets, for when we get there."

Michonne shot Rick a conspirator's smile over her shoulder. "How do you think Glenn is doing?"

"Well," Rick couldn't resist the opportunity for low blows, "He at least managed to get on the horse by himself."

"Shut up," she instructed, bouncing backwards into him.

"Yes ma'am," he steered them around a corner, delighting in the little gasp Michonne let out.

"Oh wow," she breathed, leaning forward in the saddle for the first time.

"Told you that you'd like it," he smiled from behind her. "Wait until you see it with the sun down. It all lights up at Christmas time."

"It's beautiful," Michonne's eyes were pointed forward at the view of Atlanta sprawled before them from their vantage point on the hill.

"I think this is where Maggie ran off with Glenn the other night," he told her.

"Romantic," Michonne sounded impressed. "Your girl has game."

Rick laughed. "That she does."

"Is Carl all right?" Michonne's eyes and attention turned to where his son was up ahead.

Rick sighed. "I think so. He was mad at me this morning."

"And now?" she prompted.

"He cheers up when you're around," Rick told her. It was true. His son was most like his old self when they got together.

"Me?" she asked, surprised. "I thought it was Dre."

"Dre too," Rick smiled, "but when you're around, things feel normal. It's easy to worry less."

"Why is that?" she asked quietly.

"Well, you're a damn good lawyer," he told her, "And a damn good person." The woman in front of him lapsed into silence. "I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable," Rick said.

Michonne reached for his hand at her waist, squeezing. "It's all right. I enjoy spending time with you both too. And so does Dre."

"We should do it more often," he suggested.

"Maybe if you didn't live way out here in the boonies," she laughed again.

"Then I'll come to you," he adjusted his arms, "and I don't live that far," he objected.

"I'm just teasing you," she craned her head around to look at him.

"I know," he was acutely aware of how close their faces were to one another in the moment.

"Dad!" Carl's shout came from up ahead, "It's about to start!"

"Coming," Rick turned his face away from Michonne so as not to shout into her ear. "Hold on tight," he instructed her with a grin.

"Wait, what are you going to—"

The end of her question got swallowed as Rick urged Penny into a run, galloping up the last 100 yards. Michonne's nails dug into his arms almost instantly, her back pressed flush against his chest, her breathing speeding up. Rick resisted the urge to laugh. His son came into sight at the top of the hill along with Maggie and Beth. The young ladies were tethering the horses, evidently giving Glenn and Carl a crash course in how to do it.

"About time you caught up," Glenn teased Michonne as Rick brought them to a halt.

Michonne shot him a look that could kill, looking like she was seconds from just jumping off. Rick swung off of Penny's back and helped her down. She tried to dismount with grace but nearly fell. He caught her nonchalantly, lowering her feet to the ground.

"Animals aren't really my thing," she announced, throwing Glenn another look that dared him to say anything.

"Clearly," the young ebon haired man took one last dig.

"She did great," Rick told him, leading Penny towards the other horses.

"Liar," Michonne whispered, but she smiled at him.

"The parade is about to start," Beth said kindly, already spreading out the huge picnic blanket that her mother had once handmade. "Carl, come sit up here with me," she dropped down on the surface, patting the space next to her. Carl ran there eagerly, sitting crisscross. Glenn and Maggie relegated themselves to the back of the blanket, their backs against a nearby tree. Rick caught Maggie's eye as she settled herself in next to Glenn. She blushed slightly but winked at him.

Rick grinned, choosing to sit opposite them behind his son. He picked up a blanket from a stack nearby, handing it up to Michonne. She lowered herself down next to him, spreading the cover out over her.

"Want to share?" she asked. Rick took a corner and pulled it over his legs.

"Warm?" he asked her as she got comfortable.

"Very," she answered just seconds before the sound of drums echoed up to them from their vantage point.

"Dad look!" Carl pointed excitedly. The Christmas parade, an annual tradition in Atlanta, was beginning below them.

Michonne looked surprised. "You can see it from here," she observed.

"It's a little far away," Rick admitted, "but it's better than fighting traffic."

"Smart," she complimented. She leaned backwards coming in contact with his arm. She moved to lean forward.

"It's fine," he nudged her with his shoulder, inviting her to get comfortable. She paused, her eyes darting to Carl. The boy's face was pointed firmly at the parade, his attention solely focused on the festivities. Michonne leaned back slowly into him.

She relaxed more as the afternoon drew on, soothed by the sounds of Christmas music floating up from the parade and the mugs of hot chocolate that Maggie doled out from a thermos.

"This one's got a little something extra in it for adults," Maggie whispered with a wink, passing over the canister. Michonne laughed.

"I'll have a little," she took a mug, sipping gracefully.

Rick was content to sit there, his back against a large, cold rock behind them, feeling Michonne lean more into him the more hot chocolate she consumed. She pulled herself further under the blanket, pushing her side into his. Rick had a sudden impulse to wrap his arms around her. He resisted.

"This is nice," she told him, smiling up at him.

"I'm glad you like it," he smiled back. From over her hair, Rick could see Glenn and Maggie watching him, both wearing identical shit-eating grins. He glared back. Maggie just laughed.

The parade ended but no one felt particularly like going home. Beth amused them all by singing carols, joined by her tipsy sister. Michonne laughed while Maggie kept changing the words, creating amusing parodies of everything from _Jingle Bells_ to _Joy to the World_.

Carl scooted back until he was just in front of them, laying his head down on Rick's legs. Michonne covered the young boy in her blanket almost on instinct, ruffling his hair. Carl giggled up at her. Rick felt something in his heart constrict. This felt familiar. He watched his son joking around with Michonne, smiling in a way that he didn't smile much anymore.

"You ok, dad?" Carl asked, looking up at him.

"I'm great," he told him.

88888

Sunday night came far too quickly for Rick's tastes. Michonne had left, disappearing into a car with Glenn with the promise to call him later in the week. Rick loaded Carl into the truck, driving him back to his old house.

"Carl?" he looked at his son out of the corner of his eye. Carl was falling asleep in the passenger's seat.

"Yeah dad?" his son, lifted his head to look at him.

"Do you really not want to live with your mom?" Rick asked seriously. He needed to know before he made his decision.

Carl looked down. "I don't know. I can't decide."

Rick nodded, swallowing hard. He drove on auto pilot, navigating down familiar roads. "Go on inside," he instructed his son as he pulled into the driveway. "I have to talk to your mom."

Carl nodded sleepily. "Will you come say goodbye before you leave?" he asked.

"Of course," Rick assured him.

Lori emerged from the house, walking towards him. She bent down to hug their son as he made his way up to the door. "Welcome home, baby," she stroked his head.

Carl nodded at her, dragging his feet into the house.

"Lori," Rick made sure their son was inside before he began. "We need to talk."

"You lawyer did plenty of talking this morning," she said, her voice surprisingly calm.

"She mentioned something pretty important," Rick said, keeping his voice even.

"Oh yeah?" Lori adjusted her sweater.

"Lori," Rick leveled with her. "Is there any chance it's mine?"

Lori's head whipped around back to the house. "Does Carl know?"

"He's noticed you're getting a tummy," Rick responded.

Lori sighed, looking absolutely exhausted. "It's Shane's, Rick."

"Are you 100% sure?" he asked.

Lori sucked on her teeth, "No," she admitted.

"Then you know what I have to do," Rick told her, his heart dropping.

"Just sign the papers, Rick."

"I will, if you agree to a test." Rick attempted to negotiate.

"Shane won't go for that," she said.

"It's not his choice. If there's even a chance that baby is mine—"

"Damn it, Rick." Lori looked distressed. "Please just let this go."

"I can't," Rick almost felt sorry for her. He reached in his pocket for the phone he had confiscated from Carl that morning. "Shane gave this to our son." He placed it in Lori's hand. She looked down at it with genuine confusion.

"What the hell?" she sounded like she was fuming. Rick pressed his advantage.

"Just take the test in a few months. That's all I ask. Don't put Carl through anymore."

"I can't promise you that," Lori was already moving backwards, her eyes still on the phone. She turned towards the house. "I'll talk to Shane about this. It won't happen again."

"Lori, please just take the test," he pleased. Lori looked back at him, then headed up the path without another word. Rick did not chase her.

He sat in his truck for a long while after saying goodnight, the thoughts tumbling around in his head all the way home. He knew what he had to do.

"Michonne?" she picked up on the second ring. "I want to fight," he told her.

"I knew you would," she sounded unsurprised. "Come by later. We'll figure something out."


	11. Chapter 11

Michonne lay in bed early on a Saturday morning, the blankets kicked off around her ankles, despite the chilliness of the air. She closed her eyes and steadied her breathing, one half of her brain willing her dream to go away and the other scrambling to preserve the details. This made three dreams like this in one week. She wasn't sure what was wrong with her.

She shook her head, chuckling drolly to herself. Who was she kidding? She knew exactly what was wrong with her. She was falling for Rick Grimes. She could deny it to herself during the day, but her subconscious spoke volumes at night. Three times this week her southern-accented friend had visited her in her dreams, and each time she awoke feeling as confused as the last.

It had been two whole years since she felt even an inkling of attraction to a man and almost a decade since the man had been someone besides Mike. She felt guilty now, laying in the bed they had once shared, thinking about her client. Her feelings were a huge conflict of interest. She should pick a less complicated man, a person without attachments, a person she didn't represent in court. No matter what she told herself, the dreams returned, intensifying each time.

That horseback ride had not helped in the least. She rarely was so terrified as she had been sitting on that beautiful coppery mare. She hadn't thought her heart could beat any faster until Rick jumped up behind her, wrapped his arms around her and teased her as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Rick had found quite a few excuses to touch her last week and she had been in no hurry to stop him. A shiver ran through her as she recalled the feeling of him, solid and warm and irresistibly masculine, bouncing around behind her.

She sighed, chiding herself.

"You are in so much trouble, Michonne," she exhaled, willing herself to get out of bed. She only had time for cardio this morning, relishing the burn of her muscles as she melted away her frustrations, her legs pumping furiously on the treadmill. Andre was up early, happily watching Christmas cartoons on their living room couch.

"Is Carl coming today, momma?" he asked, his wide brown eyes just visible over the back of her leather sectional.

"Yup," she dropped a kiss on his head, the fabric of her cotton towel swinging down and touching his face as she bent over.

She straightened it around her head as Andre trailed her into the bedroom. "What are we going to do today?" he asked excitedly.

"We're going to pick a Christmas tree," she told him, scooping him up and depositing him on the bed. "A real live one."

He looked delighted. "The kind daddy liked?" he asked.

"Exactly the kind," Michonne smiled through a wave of fresh guilt. She should be thinking about Mike, about Andre, and not about Rick. "Why don't you go pick an outfit," she suggested to her son. "Something nice and warm."

He bounced happily from the bed, his footsteps beating an erratic pattern up the hall to his room. Michonne sighed in relief. Andre, at least, was not onto her.

She pulled her closet doors open, seizing the outfit she had picked out days ago and laying it on the bed. She took time with her cocoa butter lotion, massaging it into her freshly-shaved skin. She moisturized her hair, pulling at the curls to stretch them out. Her hair was getting longer than it had been since Mike died. She remembered vividly the day she had gotten the kitchen scissors and cut her long dreads off in the bathroom mirror. Sasha had almost murdered her when she had seen the result, rushing her to the salon to get her butchered hair re-sculpted.

Michonne inspected her reflection. Maybe she would let her hair grow out again. She wouldn't mind a little afro. She only bothered with mascara and a bit of lipstick before she pulled on her clothing, an emerald green sweater dress with long sleeves and a turtleneck. The dress's fabric was sewn to look as though it wrapped around her from several different angles, accentuating the curves of her body. She had worn it before and was well-aware of the response she got while in it. She wasn't above using it on Rick. It was payback for all the tight button down shirts he was always wearing in her presence.

She inspected her appearance once more. Satisfied, she slipped tiny gold studs into her ears and headed down the hall to her son's room. Andre was busy trying to pull his favorite blue sweatshirt over the hoodie he already had on.

Michonne had to laugh. Her son's fashion sense was still in its early developmental stages. "Let me help you, Dre," she said kindly, removing layers until she had him in only his black sweater with his miniature gray jacket over it.

"Is Officer Grimes here?" he asked eagerly as they emerged from their bedrooms to put their shoes on.

"Soon," she assured him. Rick's punctuality was unrivaled, except perhaps by her own.

True to form, a knock on the door announced his presence. Michonne finished zipping up her knee-high black boots and seized her black coat before opening the door.

"Are you ready to pick a tree?" Rick asked in lieu of a greeting. He was bundled up in a dark blue sweater, his hand around Carl.

"We're ready!" Andre bounced out of the door and straight into Carl, nearly knocking the Sheriff's hat from his head. Carl caught him, already leading the two of them down the driveway to Rick's truck.

Rick shook his head at their children running down the sidewalk. "You look lovely, as always," he complimented her easily. Michonne felt her face flush.

"You don't clean up so bad yourself," she told him, shrugging into her coat.

"I thought we could take a Christmas tour before we get your tree," he told her, opening the passenger side door and shuttling their children into the miniscule back seat. There was a booster seat already strapped in the back. Michonne looked between it and Rick curiously. "It's Carl's old one," he explained, lifting Dre into it. "Glad it's getting some use again."

"What did you have in mind?" she asked him, smiling gratefully.

"How are you and Dre at ice skating?" he asked in return. Michonne's eyes widened but Dre and Carl were already cheering from the backseat.

"Looks like I'll be embarrassing myself again," she sighed, resigning herself to another disastrous display in front of this man.

Rick grinned cheekily at her. "I promise I won't take too many videos of it," he flashed his phone in his pocket with a laugh before starting the car.

She listened to him loudly sing Christmas Carols for the kids' amusement while he drove, trying her best not to smile too widely. Her phone vibrated from deep within her coat and she fished it out, registering a text from Sasha.

"What's on your plate today?" her friend asked.

"I'm picking out a tree," she texted back.

"With Rick?" this text was accompanied with a knowing side-eye emoji.

"Don't be jealous," Michonne texted back.

"Fine. But I better see you tomorrow," Sasha acquiesced. "Oh and…" a series of emojis followed, most notably an eggplant and some rain drops.

Michonne shook her head. "Gross."

"Uh-huh," She could practically hear her friend's skeptical tone in the text.

Suddenly Rick was leaning over, loudly bellowing the words to _O Come All Ye Faithful_ directly into her ear. She nearly jumped out of her skin in her haste to switch her phone's screen off.

"Are we boring you?" Rick asked innocently, his voice not quite matching his mischievous expression.

"Not at all," she assured him as Carl and Andre cracked up. She loudly sang the next chorus to prove her point.

Rick grinned at her, steering them into a crowded parking lot. It took a lot of finagling to work their way through the crowd, stuff their children into skates that fit and get on the ice. The normally stressful task was better with a partner, especially one as deft at navigating crowds as Rick.

"Can I take Dre to the kids' section?" Carl asked them both, already clutching Dre's hand.

"It's his first time ever skating," Michonne warned him, worried. Rick put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"Carl knows what he's doing," he assured her.

"I'll teach him," Carl said, smiling widely when Michonne nodded her approval. He skated backwards, pulling Andre gently along towards a roped off section in the middle.

"Are you and your son just good at everything?" Michonne asked Rick sarcastically.

Rick shrugged. "Not everything. Just most things," he reached for her hand.

"I wasn't kidding when I said I'm bad at this," her legs were already beginning to shake as he pulled her along.

"You can't be worse at it than riding," he teased. "Just hold onto me for a few laps. You'll get the movement down." He sped up, grasping her hand tighter and pulling her towards him. She felt a surge of adrenaline she was sure had nothing to do with the ice.

"Don't let me fall," she warned him as he whipped the two of them around.

"Not a chance," he swung around to skate backwards and promptly almost tripped over a divot in the ice. Michonne did not hide her laughter. "They need to Zamboni this rink,' Rick observed, his cheeks coloring.

"Don't worry," she teased. "I got you," she laced their fingers together tighter.

Rick grinned and sped them up again, drawing a giggle from her as he turned them around the ice, instructing her on how to move her feet. She was thrilled to find that she was a quicker study of ice skating than horseback riding, getting her footing under her after just a few more laps. She looked over at their sons, smiling as Carl delightedly pushed Andre forward on some sort of walker designed to keep the kids up.

"Want me to get you one?" Rick asked, following her line of sight.

"Ha-ha," she laughed sardonically, letting go of his hand and propelling herself forward on her own. She wasn't as graceful as he was, but she kept her footing.

"Very nice," Rick applauded her, following her closely as she slid around the rink.

"See?" she challenged, sticking her tongue out, "I'm good at some things."

"You're more than good at plenty of things," he assured her, reaching for her hand again.

Michonne allowed herself to be pulled under his arm as he started to show off, spinning them around in concentric circles.

"I think we're having more fun than the kids," she said, turning her head back to them.

"I don't know about that," Rick laughed, watching Carl propelling Andre around as fast as he could, both yelling in glee.

"So, I think I have a plan for moving forward," Michonne felt she should at least mention work, that guilty feeling rearing up in her stomach again when she studied Rick's face. She was enjoying this too much, him showing off for her.

"You can tell me on Monday," he spun her again. "Today is for ice-skating and Christmas trees."

Michonne lost her balance, careening into him. He caught her deftly, pushing her back onto her feet.

"Ok," she agreed, catching her breath.

"Want to try a lift?" he asked her brightly, making as though to grab her around the waist.

"Only if you want ice-skating, Christmas tree day to end with me on a stretcher," she laughed, swatting at his hands.

"Spoil sport," he grabbed her anyway, speeding them up just to make her laugh.

An hour later and they rounded up their kids, steering them off the ice with the crowd to make way for the Zamboni.

"Can we go again?" Carl asked his father.

"We've got other things on the list today, son," Rick helped him untie his skates, then reached for Andre's.

"Christmas trees!" Andre announced happily, shoving his feet roughly back into his boots.

"But first, lunch, my treat," Rick grinned at him.

"Rick, you don't have to," Michonne told him.

"I'm pretty sure you want a double cheeseburger right now," He stood up, smirking at her. "And I promised Carl a Happy Meal."

Michonne snorted, shaking her head. "Lunch it is."

Rick bought her a peppermint mocha to go with her cheeseburger and fries as their kids chowed down, comparing the toys they had received with their meal.

"Thank you," she smiled at him beside her, "for helping Dre and I with all of this." The holidays had been hard for her the last few years. She'd tried to make them fun for Andre, but it had taken considerable effort.

"It's my pleasure," he snitched a fry, popping it in his mouth with satisfaction. Michonne rolled her eyes.

"Want to wash that down?" she offered him a sip of her drink. He happily took it, slurping comically for the amusement of Andre and Carl.

"So, should we pick a tree?" he asked, crumpling up the wax paper his meal came with.

"What kind do you want?" Carl asked her later. They were in a Home Depot parking lot that had been transformed into a winter wonderland, stuffed to the gills with pine trees of every size and shape.

"Let Dre pick," she smiled at her son. He was positively vibrating with excitement.

Rick, Michonne and Carl followed the little boy dutifully through row after row of trees, all commenting happily when Dre prompted them for opinions.

"How big should it be, Dre?" Rick asked him, bending down to his level.

"Taller than you!" Andre stretched his hand out as high as it went.

"Well in that case, you better look at them from a better angle," he seized Dre and placed him on his shoulders, then took Carl's hand. Michonne hung back, watching Rick shuttle their kids around, her heart full to nearly bursting.

"You are in so much trouble," she whispered to herself again.

She was quiet on the ride back to her place, content to listen to the sound of her son happily chatting away with the other men in the truck. Rick answered all his mile a minute questions with a smile, seemingly oblivious to the effect he was having on her.

The sensation only grew stronger when he and Carl hauled out all her Christmas decorations from the hall closet and began to trim the tree and the house around it. She handed the boys ornaments one at a time, watching Rick lift them up so they could reach the higher branches. He even went so far as to get the ladder out of her garage to string lights along her roof. She watched them nervously from the window as Carl handed strands up to his father, the two of them conversing easily.

"Momma," Andre called her from somewhere near her knees, his little face pressed to the glass as Carl made faces at him from outside. "Can Carl spend the night?"

Michonne wouldn't have minded a sleep over at all, but she just smiled at her son. "Maybe we can all watch a movie," she told him.

Which is how she found herself sandwiched on her couch next to Rick, their children between them, moving marathoning Christmas films in her newly decorated house. She had made them hot chocolate and soup to stave off the cold that Carl and Rick had dragged in with them from outside. The two young boys were laughing happily at _Elf_ when Michonne looked over and saw Rick watching her, his blue eyes seeming to dance in the light reflecting off the Christmas tree. She swallowed nervously, ignoring the feeling of her insides seemingly liquefying. Her eye caught a glimpse of Mike's picture on the mantle. She sobered, trying to calm herself down.

Andre was the first to fall asleep, his little body slumping against hers somewhere halfway through their second movie. Carl was only a half hour behind, his hat pushed down over his eyes as gentle snores emanated from his slumbering form.

"We should go," Rick whispered to her, slowly working his arm free of the tangle of blankets they were caught in.

"Don't wake them up," Michonne said, desperate not to be left alone with her thoughts. "They can sleep in Andre's room."

"You aren't sick of us yet?" Rick asked curiously.

Michonne flushed again. "Not at all."

"Well, all right then," he stood up carefully, lifting his son over his shoulder. "Lead the way."

Michonne picked up Andre and moved him steadily down the hall and into his bed. The twin mattress easily accommodated both boys. She tucked them in, careful not to wake them and left a light on in the hall, heading back to the living room. Rick made a move to clean up their bowls. She helped him, carrying the utensils into the kitchen and depositing them in the sink. Rick moved to turn on the sink, but she stopped him.

"Just relax. I don't get a lot of time to just relax around adults," she told him, laughing quietly and shutting off the water.

"All right," Rick agreed. "I have something for you," he walked to where his jacket was hanging on a hook in the foyer and rifled through the pockets. "I didn't want to give it to you in front of the kids."

Michonne took the familiar envelope from him and opened it. Rick's slanted signature had been added to the pages.

"Congratulations," she told him, carefully returning the papers and carrying them to her desk in the living room. "You're officially a single man."

"Thanks to you," he followed her, allowing himself to be led back to the couch.

"How do you feel?" she asked him, returning to her seat and pulling the covers back up.

He sat close to her. "Relieved," he admitted. He smiled at her. "Want to watch something with at least a PG-13 rating?" he teased.

"Hell yes," she seized the remote, flipping through channels until she came to a TV version of _Die Hard_.

Rick muttered his approval, settling down into the cushions to watch. He swung his arm over the back of the couch, his fingers just grazing her shoulder. Michonne felt her breath hitch. Rick was already chuckling at something on the screen, seemingly unaware of the effect he was having on her. Michonne willed herself to relax and enjoy the movie, but couldn't quite keep her mind off the man beside her on the couch.

An hour stretched by, uninterrupted. Michonne could feel herself tiring out, her body relaxing after so many restless nights this week. She closed her eyes for only a moment, intending to rest them.

When she opened them again, she was face down in Rick's sweater, breathing in the warm, musky scent that was uniquely his own. Rick was apparently asleep as well, his feet up on the couch and beneath them, stretched contently across the cushions and under a blanket with her cosseted into the crook of his arm.

Her heart began to pound a frantic tattoo, her eyes scrambling for the mantle clock. It was 11 o'clock at night. Somehow, they had managed to sleep three hours away. She chanced a glance up at Rick. His eyes were closed and he was breathing steadily, his chest rising and falling underneath her own.

Michonne pondered her next move, trying to ignore how close they were to one another and his hand resting protectively on the small of her back. She listened carefully for the boys, just able to distinguish the sounds of Carl's snores from down the hall.

The responsible thing would be to wake up, traipse down the hall and check on the kids. Rick could stay on the couch and she would retreat to her own room and go to sleep.

The responsible thing vanished from her mind when Rick stirred, opening his eyes and looking at her. She felt herself freeze like a deer in the headlight, but he just grinned lazily at her.

"Your couch is comfortable," he rumbled, adjusting his arm so that she was positioned closer to him.

Michonne could think of nothing to say. Her body was beginning to betray her already. She was certain he would hear her fluttering pulse any moment now, or feel her skin beginning to form a trail of goosebumps from the area where his fingers were rubbing circles into her back. His eyes found hers and the smile died on his face. He swallowed heavily, his breath hitching. He licked his lips nervously, his eyes unmoving from hers, silently asking for permission.

Her heart was rattling against her rib cage, her mind racing. She wanted him, God knows she did, but fear was keeping her rooted in place. Rick's right hand came up to stroke her cheek then slid up, brushing her ear and running his fingers through the tight curls. She closed her eyes, focusing on steadying her breathing.

"Michonne," his voice was still heavy with sleep, deep and rumbling. He repeated her name and she willed herself to look at him.

"What are we doing, Rick?" she asked quietly, leaning into his touch.

"I'm thinking about kissing you," he answered, "but only if you want me to."

She bit her lip, watching him watch her. "Why?" she questioned, the fear still flooding her body.

"Because you're beautiful," he told her, sitting up to look at her, "and kind. And incredibly intelligent," he leaned closer. "And a great mother." His face was just centimeters from his own. "But mostly I want to kiss you because I like you," his lips twitched upwards.

"You like me?" she repeated, her heart skipping.

"More than like you," he confirmed, pressing his forehead gently against hers. "I think you might like me too."

Michonne could feel his beard gently tickling her face as he held them close, waiting.

"Rick," she took a deep breath, inhaling the smell of his cologne.

"I can wait," he told her. "If you need time, I can wait."

She raised her own hand, placing it flat atop the one caressing her cheek.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" she had seen this before, heartbroken people latching onto a person who showed them kindness. She was nobody's rebound.

"It's the only thing I've been sure of in a long time," he closed the scant distance between them, brushing his lips across her knuckles.

"It would be so complicated," she pointed out.

He smiled again, laugh lines cutting across his handsome face. "Seems pretty easy to me. When I'm with you, that's the only time my life seems easy."

Michonne felt tears rise to her eyes, unbidden. Hastily, she attempted to turn her face away from him. Rick was too quick for her, wrapping her tightly into a hug. She allowed him to cradle her, feeling like a child. With her face pressed into his sweater, his heart thumping directly in her ear, Michonne felt an odd sense of calm come over her. This man had been just a stranger a few months ago and then their lives had come crashing together in dramatic fashion. She had once thought she would never feel this way again, not after Mike. But laying there in Rick's arms, she realized how mistaken she had been.

He was holding her, soothing her, not pressing her to explain herself. She had found her safe place in this seemingly broken man, remembered a part of herself that she thought had died with Mike.

"Rick?" she brought her head back, looking up at him. He wiped her tears away, his calloused thumbs running gently along her face.

"Michonne," he said her name again.

"Kiss me," she told him, tilting her head up. He leaned down tentatively, pressing his warm lips gently against her own.

"Are you ok?" he pulled back, searching her face.

"Kiss me again," she told him, crawling closer to him.

He obliged her, kissing her deeper this time. She responded in kind, wrapping her arms around his neck, slanting her head for better access. He broke all too soon for her liking, taking a shaky breath.

"Are you ok?" she echoed his question back at him.

"Just trying to stay calm," he chuckled lowly. Michonne felt herself flushing.

"I like you, Rick," she felt compelled to say it out loud.

"That's the best news I've heard in a while," his smile widened.

"I'm not sure I know how to do this, anymore," she admitted. Dating seemed so far off.

"Me neither," he assured her. "But I want to figure it out with you."

"What about Lori?" she asked.

"She's not my wife anymore," he said with conviction. "I don't love her."

"And the baby?" she whispered, loathe to bring it up.

"Even if the baby is mine, it's you I want," he assured her.

"That's a long road ahead," she said, sighing.

"So, we'll go slow," he kissed her forehead. "Go out with me, one date. If I can't convince you, I'll go back to being your client," his indigo eyes were staring her down, pleading.

Michonne leaned forward, kissing him gently. "Ok," she agreed.

His smile alone was worth taking the chance. He pulled her back into him, adjusting the pillows behind their heads and rearranging the blankets around her.

"Do you mind if I keep sleeping on this comfortable couch of yours?" he asked her, already leaning back.

"Not at all," she laid her head back down on his chest, "No point in waking up the kids this late."

"My thoughts exactly," Rick's hand found the small of her back again.

* * *

 **A/N: That's all for now folks! See you in chapter 12!  
**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: This is a much shorter chapter than usual, mostly because the story is briefly taking on a previously unto seen character's POV. I promise the next one will be back to the usual length (and perspective). Special thanks to my test reader (you know who you are) and thank you so much, as always, for all of the support. Your responses are lovely as always. :)**

* * *

Life had changed rather drastically for Lori Grimes as of late. For one thing, her maiden name had come back into play, a title she hadn't possessed since she was 20 years old. Grimes was gone and she was Wayne once again, though no one in her neighborhood deigned to use it. They all still called her "Mrs. Grimes", but the polite air that once accompanied it was now replaced with a judgmental tone, as though they had poured all their disdain for her into that one syllable. Rick had been well-liked in their neighbor and his absence was noted daily. There was not a soul on their block who didn't know what happened, not a teacher at Carl's school who hadn't seen the video. She was a pariah stuck in a society of folks who were too polite to shun her outright.

The neighbors were nothing in comparison to what was going on inside her own house. There had never been a pair of men so different as Shane and Rick, even when the two of them had been best friends. Rick was reserved, quiet most of the time, old-fashioned in his moral code and parenting style. Shane was a constant ball of emotions, a tightly wound coil liable to explode on the drop of a dime. He bounced from elation to anger in one fluid motion with no stopping point in the middle. His anger was rarely directed at her, but always seemed to be pointed at someone. The fiery passion that had once so enticed her now exhausted her.

Her body was changing now as well, shifting and spreading, adapting to the other life existing inside of her. Carl had been an easy pregnancy, one that had been unexpected but highly anticipated. It was all she could do to shield this baby from the prying eyes of everyone around her, despite Shane's protests. He was happy but she was not ready for more negative attention. The guilt at being ashamed of the life inside of her made her sick, but she could not shake it. Nothing was going to plan anymore.

The biggest change was Carl. Her son had been through much in the last two years of his short life, but he had always been a jovial child. Even while Rick was hospitalized, he found reason to smile, especially around Shane. If Carl smiled anymore, it never seemed to be in her presence. Shane admitted that the cellphone had been a ploy to get the young boy to open up, but nothing had worked.

Which is why his gigantic smile on Sunday night nearly floored her.

"What's got you so happy?" she asked him, ruffling his hair as he got ready for bed.

"I had a great weekend," the little band of freckles across his nose was stretched tight as he grinned.

"Oh yeah?" Lori felt an inkling of happiness nudge at her. "What did you do?"

"I spent the night at Dre's house," Carl answered nonchalantly.

"Dre?" Lori had not heard this name before from her son. "Who's Dre?"

"He's my friend," Carl was distracted with yanking his shoes off.

"Your dad let you stay at his house?" None of this was making sense but Lori was careful to keep her tone conversational. Carl rarely wanted to talk to her anymore.

"Dad stayed too. We didn't know we were going to spend the night, but we all fell asleep." Carl began to pull off his shirt, searching for pajamas.

"How old is Dre?" Lori kept up her calm line of questioning.

"He's going to be 6 soon. Right after I turn 10," Carl was all too happy to inform her.

"That's kind of young," Lori observed, searching her mind for friends of Rick's that had children younger than Carl.

"Well, he's Miss Jackson's son. Dad and I see them a lot." Carl located his pajama pants in the top drawer where his underwear was supposed to go.

"Miss Jackson," there was a funny feeling in the pit of her stomach, like the baby was rolling over. Lori's mind was recalling images of this woman from their first encounter. Dressed in all black, she had pulled no punches in the courtroom. Lori could not stand her.

"Yeah," Carl was oblivious, "she's dad's friend."

"What do you guys do together?" Lori assisted him in stretching the shirt over his head.

"We went ice skating this time. But she's come and ridden horses and we helped her with her tree. She's really nice." Carl smiled, his head emerging from the cable-knit fabric opening.

"Is she?" Lori couldn't even picture the woman smiling.

"Yeah," Carl said happily. "She even made us breakfast. Cinnamon-apple waffles," just the memory seemed to delight him.

"Where did your dad sleep?" Lori asked. The question was a mistake. Carl was instantly on guard.

"On the couch," he said quickly, crawling into bed.

Lori was dying to ask more, but was loathe to have Carl back upset with her. Instead, she tucked him in and retired to her room. The bed was looming and empty. On the weekends, Shane stayed the night, but she wasn't taking the risk when Carl was here. She could lose her son, no matter how much Shane tried to assure her that Rick would never get away with it. Lori knew better; Rick's lawyer would get it done in a heartbeat.

She laid in bed, unsleeping, fighting down a familiar nausea. Morning sickness had made a real commitment to her this time around, visiting at all hours of the day. Her mind kept turning despite her discomfort, visions of Rick and his serious lawyer spinning through her head. This woman, whoever she was, clearly went above and beyond the call of duty for her ex, showing up at Lori's house just to make sure she signed the divorce papers. She hadn't thought much of it at the time, such was her fear of losing Carl, but now she wondered.

She wondered for most of the night before falling into a fitful sleep and then through the next morning and afternoon. She cleaned house, pondering this turn of events, considering all the possible reasons why this enigmatic lawyer might cause Carl to smile wider than he had for his own mother in months. Her eyes wandered to the clock that Rick's mother had given them for their wedding, stationed in the small foyer. Rick would be off work soon. Carl had an afterschool program today. She had time.

Before she even registered what she was doing, the car keys were in her hand and she was driving towards Hershel Greene's house.

"Lori?" Rick's face made it clear that she was the last person he expected to see at the door. Rick's old, religious friend had graciously let her in the house. Lori had sat uncomfortably in the living room, ignoring the looks Hershel's young, blonde daughter was shooting at her. At long last, Rick had emerged, dressed up in a charcoal gray dinner jacket and tie that she had never seen before. His hair was getting long, the ends curling out in a way he hadn't kept it since high school. Overall, it was a becoming look on him, despite his facial expression.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. "Is Carl ok?"

"He's fine," Lori was questioning her decision to come here, the reality of her situation setting in. "I just needed to talk to you."

"You couldn't just call?" Rick did not bother to sit down. Instead, he began to fiddle with his tie, executing a Windsor knot with practiced ease. She remembered the first time he had learned to tie one; her uncle had taught him at their rehearsal dinner. His suit now was much nicer than his rented tux had been then. Rick had never had much fashion sense. Clearly, that had changed now.

"Carl mentioned that you've been spending the night with your lawyer," she charged straight into it, her tone accusatory.

"Just the once," Rick continued with his tie as though nothing was amiss. "We ended up staying up too late at her place."

"And what were you doing there?" she asked, tersely. She was aware how shrill she sounded, but she couldn't help it.

"I don't think that's really any of your business," Rick said this matter-of-factly, like he wasn't even angry.

"It is my business, when it involves Carl," she told him, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Speaking of Carl," Rick finished with his Windsor. "Have you told him you're pregnant yet?" he smoothed a hand down the black silk of his tie.

"That's none of your business," she fired back, feeling childish.

"If it's mine, it damn sure is my business," Rick raised a brow at her.

"We were talking about you and your lawyer," Lori tried to steer the conversation back.

"And now I'm asking about the baby," Rick shrugged. "Will you take the test?"

Lori silenced. "Shane thinks it's his," she said.

"I bet," Rick looked amused.

"He doesn't know that we…"

"Slept together?" Rick laughed outright this time. "We were married."

"Still, he doesn't know," she said, the shame flooding her again.

"Can't surprise him too much," Rick told her simply. "He was the one home wrecking, not me."

"I don't know how he'll take it, if he knows," she admitted quietly.

"Does he touch you?" Rick seemed concerned for the first time in this entire conversation, an inkling of his old self coming through.

"He doesn't hit me," she knew what he was getting at.

"But he might leave you if its mine," Rick finally understood.

"Maybe," she said, holding in a sigh.

"That doesn't matter," he told her, "You need to do the right thing."

"It's my body. You let me decide that," she snapped.

"Well, you're going to have to decide somewhere else," Rick told her calmly. "I'm heading out."

"On a weeknight?" she asked, slightly shocked.

"On a weeknight," he confirmed. "Because I'm a grown man."

The shoe finally dropped. "Do you have a date?" she asked, finally understanding his appearance.

"I do," Rick was nonchalant in his delivery of this information.

"Is it with your lawyer?" Lori jumped to her feet.

"Lori," Rick looked at her almost pityingly, "you need to go home."

He walked her to the door, his dress pants ruffling as he moved. She followed him numbly, now with more questions than she had before arriving.

"Talk to our son," he instructed kindly as he opened her car door for her, the same way he had since she was 16 years old. "He's feeling confused. He doesn't know what to think about you and Shane." Whatever anger Rick had once been feeling, it was seemingly gone now.

"I'll talk to him," she promised, eager to leave.

"All right," he told her, his hand patting the side of her car. "Be safe." It was the kind of sendoff you gave a coworker or an acquaintance. "I'll see you at the custody hearing in a few weeks."

"Have fun on your date," she told him, starting the car.

Carl was morose again on the way back from school, silently choosing to work on homework in the car rather than look at her. She had to tell him, had to talk to him about what was going on. Rick was right, as usual.

She didn't have the strength tonight. She went through the motions of the rest of the night, counting down the minutes before she could go to sleep. Shane called her, but she let the phone ring until voicemail picked it up.

Lori laid alone in the bed she had made, wondering how in the hell her life had changed so drastically.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Thank you, thank you, a million times thank you for all of your reviews and follows and favorites! Without further ado, here comes chapter 13...**

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"Rick," Michonne's voice was low and breathy, almost pleading.

"Yes?" he glanced up briefly at her from his vantage point, enjoying the view.

She sighed, her whole body lifting off the bed and flattening out again. Rick kissed the soft skin between her calf and the back of her knee, smiling against the goosebumps that rose there at his touch. He continued his ascent, curling her leg over his shoulder as he moved upwards. He breath was hitching with every inch he moved up, her hand clutching the sheets beneath them.

"You are such a tease," she accused through gritted teeth as he reached her naval, dropping a kiss just below her bellybutton.

"Who's teasing?" he asked innocently, rolling the lace fabric around her hips between his fingers.

She brought her other knee up against his body, wrapping it around his back. Rick smiled at her eagerness. She was looking down at him, her dark eyes dilated, waiting for him to make the next move. He bent to kiss her, inhaling the smell of her skin like cocoa butter, burying his nose in the softness. She called out his name, quietly, impatiently. He grasped her panties, pulling them down over her long lithe legs and bent to his task.

She instantly began to voice her approval, her breathing uneven as he touched her, her legs tightening around him, her hands tugging at his hair.

"Shit," she cursed, sending a thrill through him, making him want to see how much more uninhibited he could make her. Fantasies like this had played out in his mind before over the few months of their friendship, but the real thing eclipsed them. Michonne Jackson was under him, panting for him. Rick had never before had a date end so well.

A few hours earlier…

"How did you know?" Michonne's delighted question drew a smile from Rick. He watched her staring up at the marquee, a look of elated shock on her face.

"You have all of the DVDs. And the books," he told her with a shrug. He wasn't too proud to admit that he had inspected the shelves in her house, absorbing the pictures and titles displayed, attempting to know more of her. She appeared to be a closet nerd, her shelves well-stocked with fantasy novels. After two instances of taking her places that he liked, he wanted to do something just for her. It had only taken a quick internet search that yielded immediate results. There was a Lord of the Rings symphony tonight, and he had two tickets.

"Stalker," she clicked her tongue affectionately, her smile widening, adding to her overall appearance. Michonne was a striking woman even on the most normal of days. Dressed up, she was a force to be reckoned with. The dress she was wearing was likely to kill him, if her smile didn't first. Black as sin and floor length with a slit running clear up her leg, the fabric was clinging to her like life depended on it.

He grinned at her, producing two tickets from the pocket of his suit jacket. "Come on, gorgeous," he held out an arm for her. She happily took it, her long strides keeping time with his as they entered the theater.

"Thank you," she told him when he handed her a glass of wine from the bar. The crowd was thick, especially for a weeknight. The holidays brought couples of all ages out in droves. Everyone over 21 was crushing towards the long marble bar in the back. Rick did not mind at all. It was an excuse to stand closer to Michonne.

"It's my pleasure," he wrapped one hand around her waist. She looked over at him with a grin, taking a long sip.

"This is nice," she mused.

"The wine?" he asked, taking a draw from his own glass.

"'Being with you," she answered.

Rick felt his cheeks begin to flush. He took another gulp to steady his nerves.

"Being with you is the best thing that's happened to me in a very long time," he told her.

"Me too," she said quietly.

He knew that they should be talking about the details of entering a relationship. He knew he was a complicated man in a complicated situation. It didn't seem to matter. Right now, he felt the way he always did around her: inexplicably happy. It was everything, from the way she smelled to the way she smiled, from her calm and cultured manner of speech to the way she laughed when he made a joke. It was the way she leaned into his touch now, like she wanted the contact as badly as he did. He pulled closer to her still, holding her to his side, sipping his wine and just watching her. The two of them always had plenty to say when they were together, but the silence was comfortable now.

"Did I mention how beautiful you look?" he asked her, taking another gulp of wine.

"I believe the word you chose was 'gorgeous'," she told him in a teasing tone. He could swear that her dark cheeks were flushing. He reached for her hand. She obliged, wrapping her fingers around his. There was no mistaking her blush this time. Rick smiled. He wanted to kiss her.

She beat him to it, craning up slightly in her heels, pressing her lips to his. He knew she intended it to be a small peck, but he couldn't resist holding her still against him for a few seconds longer, the wine on her lips making him dizzy.

"You are trouble," she chided him with a giggle, pulling back.

"I'm not the one who's wearing that dress," he made a show of checking her out to her amusement.

"I don't know," she took another sip of her drink. "That suit is asking for some trouble of its own."

Rick wasn't a man much for dressing up like this; his dinner jacket felt stiff and he was certain that he would never be able to move quickly in the dress pants that Maggie had coerced him into buying. The looks he was attracting from Michonne made him rethink his aversion. Maggie was right about the female reaction to a good suit. Lori had looked floored at his appearance a few hours back. He was surprised to find that her reaction to him didn't cause him to feel anything besides annoyed. He wasn't thinking about Lori at all anymore, only the woman who seemed content to hold his hand in public and tease him. He would tell her about Lori later. This night was just for her.

He led Michonne to their seats, his hand on the small of her back. He felt a thrill at the way she allowed him to guide her, even though she was perfectly capable on her own. She took her seat, the long fabric of her dress pooling beneath their seats, and lifted the arm rest between them. He grinned, sitting next to her, his arm still wrapped around her waist. She leaned into him the way she had while they had been watching movies on the couch. He kissed her once on the forehead, not caring that they were attracting more than a few looks for their physical intimacy. It had been all he could do for months _not_ to touch this woman, and now that she was allowing him to, he had no intention of stopping.

Her gasp as the first bars of music filled the hall sent a shock of pleasure through him. Her eyes were trained on the musicians, her hand clutching his tightly, like a child watching her favorite show. The lights dimmed, the music filled the air and Rick watched Michonne watching the orchestra. He had been partly afraid to bring her here, sure that she would want to sit somewhere and hash out the details surrounding the two of them, unconvinced that he could make a solid argument against so talented a lawyer. He'd been turning the points over in his head for days, building his case.

Point one: They got along better than he had with anyone in a long time, maybe ever.

Point two: Their children loved each other.

Point three: He loved her son and was certain she felt the same about Carl.

Point four: He was willing to do almost anything to prove he was worthy of her.

The arguments seemed to die away slowly as he watched her. She was perfectly at ease with him, if her body language was any indication. The smile had not left her face all night. Rick felt a spark of hope. Maybe this was something he wouldn't have to fight her on. Maybe this would be as easy as falling for her had been.

She at last felt his gaze and turned her head, her dark eyes flickering to his.

"This is great," she whispered to him in the darkness, her face coming close to his, their foreheads nearly touching.

"I'm glad," he whispered back, pulling himself just a little closer to her, uncaring that the crack between the seats was pushing up into him.

Scenes from the films began to play above the orchestra, drawing both of their attention. He chuckled at Michonne's reactions to all of them, the uninhibited delight in her as she watched her favorite movies play in front of them. Rick had never seen the movies, but was resolved to correct that now. Long films meant the potential of long hours on a couch with Michonne, an extremely tempting prospect. The music's crescendos rose and rescinded time and time again as elves and orcs battled onscreen. Rick continued to watch the woman beside him enjoying it all.

"That was amazing," she gushed as they exited the theater, her face split in two from her grin.

"You're going to have to explain to me what was going on with those short guys and the ring. I think I'm missing a few details," he told her as they waited for valet. She was under his arm again, sharing body heat in the cold night.

"You've never seen the movies?" she asked, aghast.

"Nope," he smirked at her out of the corner of his eye, enjoying her reaction.

"Or read the books?" she questioned, horrified.

"Not a word," he told her. "I'm more of a Star Wars guy."

"Oh Rick," she sounded so disappointed. "And here I was thinking you were pretty much perfect."

He let out a bark of surprised laughter, "Perfect, huh?" he asked.

"Well, not now," she shook her head. "But we can fix that."

"You're welcome to fix me," he assured her as his truck pulled up.

"Maybe after we eat," she told him with a grin, taking his hand as he helped her into the car.

"What are you in the mood for?" he asked, steering them out of the parking lot. He had made reservations at a few places just in case, determined to cater to her every whim tonight. His hand reached for hers almost involuntarily across the seats.

"Burgers," she told him with no uncertainty, her fingers squeezing his.

Rick felt a pleasant jolt of surprise. "And a strawberry shake?"

"Obviously," she laughed.

"All right," Rick nodded, an idea forming in his mind. "We might be overdressed for this place."

"I don't mind if you don't," she assured him.

"Not at all," he lifted her hand to kiss her knuckles.

He took her to his favorite burger place, a spot called The Vortex. She began to laugh as soon as she laid eyes on it, taking in it's ridiculous door, built to imitate a voodoo skull and crossbones, complete with large, swirling eyes.

"Wait until you see the inside," Rick joined in her laughter.

"I can't wait," she sped them up, digging her heel into the parking lot as she pulled him excitedly to the door. Her giggling intensified upon entering, her eyes flicking from the hodgepodge of signs, knickknacks, and even old tire swings.

"Romantic, isn't it?" he joked. He had planned to wine and dine her in some fancy establishment tonight, splurging on steak and overpriced appetizers. He would do it in a heartbeat if she showed even the slightest hint of hesitation.

"It's perfect," she kissed him on the cheek, straightening his tie.

He sat beside her in the booth, his side pressed flush against hers. They ordered the biggest burger on the menu, complete with a heaping pile of tater tots. It arrived in a flourish of bacon and cheese and bread piled half a foot high. Michonne whipped out her silverware with gusto.

"Let's do this," she grinned mischievously.

Rick grinned. "Save some for me," he teased her. She was already forking a tater tot into her mouth.

"Keep up then," she fired back, offering him one from her own fork. He opened his mouth willingly.

"Very good," he closed his eyes, relishing in the taste of the salty potato.

She licked her own lips as she watched him. Rick felt his pulse begin to spike, his eyes drawn to her mouth.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked him curiously, cutting the burger into smaller pieces on her plate.

"What makes you think I'm thinking about something?" he responded.

"You always get this little wrinkle between your brows when you are concentrating," she scrunched up her face, as though to imitate him.

"Is that what I look like?" he asked on a laugh.

"Exactly like this," she assured him, deepening her scowl. "You get very serious."

"I'm thinking that I can't believe we're here," he told her, taking a bite.

"In this restaurant?" she looked around, amused.

"Partly," he chuckled again. "But I meant on a date. It's something I thought about for a while."

Michonne stopped eating. "Really?"

"Really," he set down his fork. "I didn't really notice it at first, but then Daryl said something that got me thinking."

"What did he say?" her hand came under her chin as she gave him her attention.

"He mentioned how attractive you are. It made me jealous," Rick admitted. "It was the first time I allowed myself to really see you."

"Were you closing your eyes the rest of the time?" she laughed.

"No," he smiled at her. "But I was a wreck. I couldn't understand why someone like you was helping me. I figured it had to be pity."

"I don't pity you, Rick," she told him seriously.

"I know that now," he fixed his eyes back on her face.

"You said the other night that you wanted this date to convince me to give you a chance," Michonne reached for his hand.

"I did," he remembered it well.

"You don't have to worry about convincing me," she laughed quietly. "I've been convinced that you are a wonderful person for a while now. If this is something you want to try—"

"This is definitely something I want to try," he said quickly.

"Then I am willing to give this a real chance," she finished.

Rick kissed her then, pushing the burger up and away from them to give him space. Her lips parted willingly beneath his own, her breath catching in a little gasp. He trailed his hand over the smooth skin of her arm until he reached her face, cupping her cheek.

"Do you want to go?" she asked him breathily when they parted for air.

"Absolutely," Rick couldn't get the check and their take away boxes fast enough. It took all his self-control not to floor the gas pedal all the way back to her place. Her hand was rubbing circles into his knee. By the time he got his truck into her driveway, every nerve ending in his body was hyper sensitive.

He leaned across the seats and she met him halfway, her arms wrapping around him like she was trying to pull him into her.

"Do you want to come in?" her breathless question tickled his ear. Hell yes, he wanted to come in. However, there were a few nagging details to contend with first.

"What about Dre?" he asked her in between kisses, his mind going fuzzy.

"At grandma's house," she told him on a gasp. "What about work?" Apparently, responsibility had reared its head for her too.

"Maggie made me pack my uniform," he felt himself blush, embarrassed by the presumptuousness of his actions. "She said just in case."

"Smart girl," Michonne nodded approvingly, bringing her lips back to his.

They shed their shoes as they crossed her foyer, passing the red rose he had brought her earlier that day in its vase on the kitchen counter. Rick lost his jacket somewhere on the couch when Michonne pulled it off, wrapping herself around him in its place. He hefted her into his arms with both hands, the silk of her dress indistinguishable from the patches of smooth skin he could feel against his palms. They fell against a wall for a moment, Rick leaning in to her, kissing her harder than he had intended to that night. He'd wanted to take it slow, to respect her wishes, to be a gentleman. Every gasp of pleasure that she took chipped away at his resolve, egging him forward. Her hands were not helping, stroking him through his clothes fervently.

"Michonne," he summoned the strength to pull back, bringing his eyes to hers. "If you're not ready, I'll stop, I swear I will."

She looked surprised, her eyes widening. A slow smile crept across her face. "Don't you dare stop," she instructed.

"Yes ma'am," he relinquished control, bringing his face back down to hers, His hands moved seemingly of their own violation, cupping her round rear through her dress. She giggled against his mouth at the contact and Rick felt arousal flood him. He considered the possibility of propping her up against the wall for a moment when she blessedly relieved him, taking his hand and leading him into her bedroom.

His fingers closed on the clasp of her zipper and he pulled down, the material falling to the floor in one fluid motion. She stepped out of it, already tugging at the knot of his tie. He moved to help her, wrenching it off as she went to work yanking his dress shirt out of his pants. Her fingers fumbled on his shirt buttons as he pulled off his belt, nearly tripping in his haste to shed the offending objects.

They paused for a moment, laughing at the absurdity of it. He took a moment to look at her, her dark skin almost glowing in the low light of the bedroom, her body only shielded from his eyes by a few scraps of black lace.

"Holy shit," the curse fell from his lips involuntarily.

"My thoughts exactly," her eyes were roving his body hungrily. He reached for her, determined to run his hands over every inch of her coppery skin, tracing the curves he had previously only imagined being there. Michonne seemed to have a similar agenda, flattening her palms over the muscles of his arms and chest before settling in his hair, pulling at the curls.

"I love your hair," she murmured, twirling the strands around her fingers. Rick resolved to grow it out in that moment. Lori had never been overly fond of his curls.

He grabbed her around the waist, lifting her up just enough to topple them both onto the bed. He nipped at her neck and breasts, delighting in her giggle as she swatted at him. He resumed his kissing, leaving a sloppy trail down her body until her laughter subsided into broken gasps.

"Rick," she pleaded as he teased her, trailing his tongue along her legs. "You're such a tease."

"Who's teasing?" he asked innocently. He enjoyed baiting her. He was willing to bet it had been a long while since she let anyone into her bed, and he was determined to earn his place. He ignored her squirming as he removed the last barrier between them burying his face between her legs just to listen to her moans of pleasure. It didn't take much before she was shaking all over, calling his name with every movement of his mouth.

She fell apart against him with a shudder, his name on her lips, her hands in his hair, her legs over his shoulders. He reluctantly pulled away, glancing up at her panting form.

"Still think I'm teasing?" he couldn't resist asking, his ego swelling at the sight of her beneath him.

In answer, she sat up, rolling him over and reversing their positions. He lost his boxer briefs in one tug.

"I want you," she leaned down to whisper this directly into his ear, sitting down on top of him.

A string of curse words was the only response he could muster as his world momentarily exploded. He sat up, pulling her into him, kissing her as she moved against him. He was dangerously close to losing control, but Michonne did not seem to care. She was tugging at him incessantly, pulling him deeper into her until his focus dissolved into nothing but her. Rick could have happily existed here for the rest of his life.

She tightened against him again when he flipped them both over, moving her legs back to his shoulders and driving into her, listening to her shout his name. He was quick to follow, collapsing on top of her, momentarily spent. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him in place against her.

"Damn," she whispered, her chest still heaving.

"No kidding," he chuckled. "I gotta keep taking you on dates."

She laughed again, her whole body shaking beneath his.

"You had better," she told him, her fingers still absentmindedly plying his curls. He laid down next to her, pulling her into his arms.

"I promise," he said, kissing her. He could feel his pulse begin to speed up when her stomach growled loudly. He began to laugh.

"Hey," she slapped him lightly. "I only got to eat three tater tots tonight," she protested.

"The leftovers are in my truck," he was already pulling himself up, rooting around on the floor for his shirt and boxers. "I'll be right back."

He sprinted outside, partly because of the cold and partly because he loathed to leave Michonne for too long. Takeout bag and uniform in hand,, he returned to her house, pausing only to reheat their giant burger and grab some napkins.

He returned to find her sitting cross-legged on her bed wearing an overlarge shirt from Spelman College. He set the plate and napkins down in front of her and sat next to her.

"Thank you," she smiled at him, falling on the food ravenously.

"Hungry?" he teased, taking a bite.

"Someone helped me work up an appetite," she licked her lips dramatically.

"Nice shirt," he observed, fingering the well-worn cotton.

"Thanks. I did my undergrad at Spelman," she told him between bites.

"Where did you get your law degree?" he asked, realizing how little he truly knew about her life before he came into it.

"University of Virginia," she wiped her hands on a napkin. "That's where Mike and I met."

"He was a law student?"

She laughed. "Film student. We didn't have anything in common at first," she shrugged, looking thoughtful. "He kind of snuck up on me." She glanced over at him. "Seems like all of the important men in my life have a habit of doing that." She nudged him.

"Mike seems like a good guy," he was relieved to see that she wasn't referring to him in the usual sad tone.

"He was." Michonne smiled wistfully. "He was far from perfect, but we had a great run. And he left me Dre." She wiped her mouth off and kissed him softly on his cheek.

"Andre is a great kid," Rick confirmed. "Carl will love having him around more."

"Do you want to tell him, about us?" she asked.

"I'm going to tell him next time I see him," Rick chuckled. "He's a hard kid to keep secrets from."

She looked pleased by this proclamation. "What are you going to say?"

Rick snorted. "He's already told me he wouldn't mind me moving on with you. I don't think I'll have to say much."

"I knew I liked Carl," Michonne smiled, pushing the burger toward him. "You should eat something too. I'm going to need you to build your energy back up."

Rick scarfed down a large bite, "yes ma'am," he told her, polishing off the food.

"I like it when you use that accent on me," she said, her voice dropping.

"You like my accent?" he dialed it up, playing up his Southern twang.

"Very much," she moved the plate off the bed, scooting back up towards the pillows. He followed her, lifting her shirt by the hem.

"You know what I like?" he asked her, laying her back down on the mattress.

"What?" her arms came up to embrace him.

"I like it when you scream my name," he felt the shudder run through her body as he began to stroke her.

"Then by all means, make me scream it again," she said huskily.

"Yes ma'am," he kissed her.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Happy Holidays everybody! This will be the last update before Christmas, but I promise I'll be back soon! Thank you all for your kind words, insightful (and hilarious) observations, and your continued support.**

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The alarm went off far too early for Michonne's liking, the electronic tune crescendo growing louder until she could no longer ignore it. The man next to her, by contrast, seemed to have no qualms with sleeping through the sound. His chest was still rising and falling in a gentle rhythm, his hand laid protectively over her backside. It wasn't until she moved, reaching for the offending phone, that Rick woke up, his blue eyes opening groggily.

"What time is it?" he mumbled, his accent gravelly.

"6:30," she knew the hour without having to look. Today was the first morning in years where she had not woken up before the alarm went off.

Rick groaned in displeasure. "What time do you start work?" he asked her, closing his eyes again.

"9," she put her now silent cellphone back on the nightstand. Work seemed like an insurmountable task today, particularly after last night. She and Rick had fallen into a pattern of dozing off only to be woken by the other one's desires until they were finally spent in the early hours of the morning. She was still in a blissful haze, almost a state of disbelief. It had been years since she felt anything like this. Going to bed with Rick Grimes was pleasurable but waking up to him the next morning was the most sublime experience she'd had in a long time.

"Me too," Rick rolled over, his sleep-warmed skin covering her. He kissed her between the shoulder blades. "Want to play hooky with me today?" he asked against her back.

Michonne laughed into the pillows. "You're a bad influence," she swatted backwards at him. He caught her hand.

"Come on," he plead his case, "when's the last time you stayed home on a work day?"

"Not since before Dre," she admitted, unable to even recall a single instance.

"Same here," Rick said. "I haven't taken a day off in years. Not counting my suspension." He chuckled.

"We work hard," Michonne attempted to rollover but Rick was reluctant to release his human pillow.

"Let's take a day, just one," he kissed her again, dragging his lips to the base of her neck.

"And do what?" she asked playfully. She wiggled against him.

"I have a few ideas of things we could do," his hands were wandering her body again.

"You're insatiable," she laughed.

"Stay in bed with me," he beseeched. "One day. No work. Just a normal couple, getting to know one another."

"Are we a couple now?" she asked in a teasing tone, but was truly curious about the answer. One night together, no matter how passionate, was no guarantee of anything in her experience.

"We better be," he rolled back over, freeing her. "I don't do one night stands. I expect a commitment," his tone was serious, but his face was crinkling into a smile.

"I'll make an honest man out of you, don't worry," she poked him, unable to hide her own grin.

"Do you really want to go to work?" he asked her. Michonne knew that if she said the word, he would get up and prepare for his workday.

"One day in bed," the prospect was very tempting. She mentally catalogued her to-do list today. It was nothing Glenn couldn't handle.

Rick scooted closer to her, contorting his face into a pouty expression that immediately set her laughing.

"Just this once," she told him.

He fist-pumped the air. Michonne's laughter intensified.

"Call work," she instructed, moving to get out of bed.

"Where are you going?" he asked, reaching for her.

"To brush my teeth and wash your funk off me," she stuck her tongue out, evading his grasp.

"Such a girl," he lamented with a smile.

"There's an extra toothbrush in the medicine cabinet," she called over her shoulder, grabbing her bathrobe and moving off to the master bathroom.

Michonne splashed her face with water from the sink, turning on the shower to heat the water up this cold morning. The sun had yet to make it past the storm clouds outside the small window. She had to admit that Rick had selected a good day to be lazy. She was brushing her teeth when he joined her in the bathroom, still naked as the day he was born. She smirked at him around her toothbrush, gesturing to the one she had set aside for him. He shoved the brush in his mouth, rubbing the foam around indiscriminately. She shook her head, trying not to laugh with her mouth full.

"What did work say?" she asked him after she rinsed her mouth out.

Rick spat in the sink, "They told me to feel better. I came down with a horrible cold," he grinned cheekily at her. "Are you going to call?"

"After my shower," she assured him, pulling the glass door back and reaching in to test the water. It was steaming hot, the way she liked it. She could feel Rick's eyes on her from behind. She looked at him over her shoulder. His obvious attraction to her gave her a little spark of feminine pride. An idea entered her mind. "We could save water if we shared," she suggested innocently, removing her robe and hanging it on the towel rack.

"Probably a good idea," he nodded, his pupils darkening.

"Grab a towel," she stepped in to the shower, enjoying the sounds of him scrambling around just outside. The hot water felt amazing on her skin, coursing over sore muscles. Rick had given her quite the workout last night, but she wasn't tired. She kept her eyes closed as she heard him step inside, his feet slapping on the tile floor of her walk in shower in his haste to join her. She tilted her head back, her skin prickling as the water dripped down her face and into her hair.

"You aren't playing fair," Rick's voice was low and rumbling.

She opened her eyes again. He was standing in front of her, almost distressed. Michonne turned her back to him, fidgeting with her shower controls until she switched the faucets to a rarely-used feature. The faucet over head of them began to spew water, simulating rain. She did not often indulge in this; being a mother meant showers were quick. She could not think of a better time to splurge.

"Better?" she asked him, the water drenching them both.

"Almost," he closed the distance between them, pulling her against him and kissing her. He tasted of mint, his skin slick underneath her hands, his stubble brushing against the delicate skin on her face. She pulled back reluctantly, tilting her head to breath.

"Turn around," she instructed. Rick raised an eyebrow, but complied. Michonne reached for her shampoo, lathering some up between her hands before massaging it into his damp curls, dragging her knuckles down his scalp. Rick let out a deep sigh of contentment, relaxing as she went to work on the rest of him, soaping him up generously with her body wash.

"So this is why you smell so good," Rick chuckled. She was kneading his muscles between her hands. He had spoiled her last night in every way; she intended to return the favor.

Michonne laughed, turning him around and pulling him back under the hot water, watching the suds race down his body and into the drain. She cleansed herself as he rinsed off, his eyes trained on her as she smoothed the soap over her dark skin.

"You really aren't playing fair," he lamented for a second time, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.

She smiled, taking her time in rinsing off, pulling her fingers through her hair to stretch the tight coils back out.

"Waiting is no fun," she teased him, enjoying her modicum of payback.

"No, it's not," he agreed, his control splintering as he reached for her, pulling her wet body flush against his. She snaked her arms around him, clutching his shoulders as his hands beelined a path down to her rear.

"Always copping a feel," she accused as he turned his attention to her neck. She did not mind in the slightest. She craved the contact as much as he seemed to.

"You can't really blame me," he gave her cheeks a light squeeze to illustrate his point.

Her self-control was quickly slipping as Rick dusted kisses along her body, his hands going to work on her slick skin.

"Rick," she could barely get his name out. His ministrations were robbing her of her ability to think clearly. She vaguely recalled her plan and pulled back from him. He looked disappointed at the sudden lack of contact. "Sit down," she instructed, steering him backwards towards the shower bench.

He dropped down onto it with a comical wet smack. She smiled, coming closer, the air around them steaming from the hot water. "Lean back," she applied pressure to his shoulder, pushing him back until he was braced against the wall. Michonne climbed into his lap slowly, mindful of the way he was watching her, like a child waiting to open a present.

"You're going to kill me, I swear," he groaned, his fingers digging into her waist.

"I like you too much to kill you," she assured him, not bothering to disguise her moan of pleasure as she began to move on top of him.

88888

"Do you have eggs?" Rick's face was in her refrigerator. He was dressed in his work undershirt and boxers, his hair still damp from their shower, looking at home in her kitchen.

"Top shelf," she called backwards to him, looking for a mixing bowl. She could hear him rooting around, removing ingredients one by one. He set the eggs down on the counter in front of her, tugging at the back of her shirt playfully. She smiled at him. "What are you making?" she asked.

"Pancakes," Rick had insisted on cooking breakfast. He kissed her forehead once before returning to his task, giving it the singular focus he seemed to apply to everything that was important to him. He measured out ingredients, eyeballing them as he dumped flour into the bowl she gave him.

"From scratch?" she questioned, impressed. She was more of a Bisquick gal.

He winked at her. "I know a thing or two about cooking," he cracked the eggs with a flourish over the bowl.

"Do you want me to help?" she retrieved a whisk.

"I want you to just relax," he smacked her on the bottom playfully, shooing her out.

"If you insist," she wasn't going to complain about a homemade southern breakfast, especially if it came from Rick. She leaned on the counter, watching him whip the batter expertly, humming a song to himself.

"What do you normally do in the mornings?" he asked her, adding cinnamon.

"I usually workout," she told him.

"Well, you certainly managed to do that a little while ago," he grinned suggestively at her.

"I can't break my routine," she teased, but her face was flushing. She was glad he enjoyed it as much as she did. "What do you normally do?"

"Well, I used to get Carl ready for school. Now, I have breakfast with the girls, then go feed the horses."

"Very Pa Ingalls of you," she watched him heat up her griddle on the stove, testing it by splashing droplets of water on it.

He chuckled, spooning the batter on the pan. "What does Dre do, during the day?"

"Mostly, he's at daycare," Michonne had spent many weeks researching before settling on a place that satisfied her. Leaving her son alone had been a considerable effort, especially after his father died.

"His grandma doesn't keep him?" the batter sizzled, filling the kitchen with a warm smell.

"She wouldn't mind, but I don't want to impose. Also, he needs to be with kids his age. After Mike died…I kept him sheltered for a while."

"Can't blame you," Rick said lightly, flipping over the flat cakes. "When I woke up, you couldn't pull me away from Carl."

"What was Lori like, when you woke up?" Michonne hoped she wasn't over stepping a boundary, but the question nagged at her. She would have been beside herself if the man she loved was in the hospital. She wondered how Lori had reacted.

"A little distant, now that I think about it," Rick looked at her thoughtfully. "I let it slide, thinking it was because we fought so much before the accident and she wasn't sure how to handle it. Guess I was wrong." He shrugged, plating the first stack. "Do you have syrup?" he asked.

She retrieved it for him, her mind on what he had just said as she pulled out silverware and napkins. She wondered about Rick's marriage sometimes. From what she could surmise, it had never been a particularly blissful union. He had been angry when they first met, resentful when he spoke of it. Now he spoke of them with the air of a person discussing the weather.

She looked over at him. He was stacking pancakes a few inches high on a plate. He smiled when he caught her eye, looking every bit as happy as his tone would suggest. The thought occurred that she might have been the catalyst for that smile. Her body prickled in response.

"Breakfast is going to be cold if you keep watching me like that," Rick said, seizing the syrup bottle and silverware.

"Do you want to eat at the table?" Michonne brought herself back to the here and now, anchored by her hunger and the delectable smell wafting off the plate towards her.

"We're spending the day in bed, right?" he answered with a question of his own, inviting her with a nod of his head to indulge in his plan.

"How right you are," she kissed him on the cheek. "Lead the way."

Breakfast was delicious, made all the more enjoyable when eaten off a shared plate. Rick was acting as her backrest, his legs on either side of her, his arms bending around her while he ate.

"These are so good," she complimented, leaning into his chest while she chewed another delectable bite.

"It's a family recipe," he told her.

"What else are you good at?" she set her fork down. "You know, besides ice-skating, and horseback riding, and cooking…" she ticked the points off on her fingers.

"Well, I'm great in bed," he licked syrup off his thumb, "but you already know that."

She rolled her eyes, but was unable to refute him. "I know you're a comedian," she teased.

"Honestly," he swallowed a bite of food, "there isn't much I think I'm truly great at. You're the one with all of the talents. Single mom, super lawyer, snazzy dresser—"

"Snazzy dresser?" she couldn't resist the urge to interrupt him, laughing at his odd turns of phrase.

"You're always wearing these dresses that I swear you just pour yourself into," he smirked at her.

"What about you and those button downs?" she countered.

"What about 'em?" he asked.

"You know what they look like on you. You have a mirror," she accused.

"I exhausted my supply of nice shirts trying to make an impression on you," he chuckled.

"Now I know what to get you for Christmas," her laughter intensified. It wasn't often that she got giggly, but Rick had a talent for coaxing it out of her.

"What are you doing?" he asked. "For Christmas, I mean?"

"I'll have to go see Mike's mom for a bit," she said. "But besides that—"

"Spend it with me," Rick suggested. "And Carl. Christmas on a farm. Dre will love it."

"You're full of ideas today, aren't you?" she polished off her last bite.

"Or Carl and I can come here," he amended. "Since we hosted on Thanksgiving."

"That's a big step," she mused.

"Is it?" he sounded genuinely surprised. "You've already met my whole family and friends. Doesn't seem that far of a stretch."

Michonne found herself smiling. Rick had a way of simplifying things for her, putting an end to her overthinking. "I could cook dinner. Invite some people over."

"Me included?" he questioned jokingly.

She laughed again. "You'll get the seat of honor."

"Then I'll be there," he kissed her, the maple on his lips lending him a sweet taste.

"Will Carl be all right, spending his Christmas here?" she could not help herself from asking.

"I'll talk to him," Rick promised her. "But I can't imagine he would be upset."

"And Lori?" she asked.

"What about Lori?" Rick's brow furrowed.

"How do you think she will take all of this?" Michonne needed to know.

"I think she already knows," Rick wet his lips. "She came over, while I was getting ready yesterday. I've been meaning to tell you," Rick said apologetically, scratching at his stubbled cheek absentmindedly. "I just keep getting distracted." His eyes drifted down to her.

"What did she say?" Michonne asked, attempting to keep him on task.

"She came over before our date," Rick shifted, moving their plate to the bedside table. "I guess Carl was gushing about you."

"She confronted you about it?" Michonne privately thought his ex-wife had a lot of nerve.

"She tried," Rick shrugged one shoulder. "She had plenty of questions about you."

"I bet she did," Michonne snorted.

"It's none of her business," Rick echoed her own thoughts. "But I asked about the baby, and she told me Shane doesn't know she was still sleeping with me while we were married."

"You really think Shane doesn't know?" Michonne asked. Officer Walsh did not strike her as a stupid person. He could play stupid when it suited him, but Michonne knew a calculating person when she saw them.

"I doubt it. I think he doesn't want to know," Rick leaned back against the headboard. Michonne moved over so that they were face to face.

"He's jealous of you. I think he desperately wants this baby to be his. It'll be the one thing he has over you," she studied Rick for his reaction. This was a lot to take in for anyone, let alone a man who had been through the ringer a time or two over the last year.

"Is it wrong that I hope the baby _is_ his?" Rick asked her, his hair tumbling over his forehead.

"She's put you through a lot, I can't blame you." Michonne, touched his curls. massaging the scalp. He closed his eyes and exhaled.

"Is the baby is mine, what does that mean for us?" he asked her, flicking his eyes open.

Michonne gave a start at his word choice. "Well, Carl would have a sibling," she said, choosing her own words carefully. "I'm sure I will come to love them as much as I already love Carl." That part was true. Anyone who was half-Rick was bound to be a person whom she was affectionate towards.

Rick's hand flexed, clutching her through the material of her shirt. "A baby is a lot of work for a single parent," he breathed.

"I have some tips for you, if it comes to that," she fluttered kisses over his face in an attempt to reassure him. The action served to calm her nerves as well.

"How did you do it?" he was looking at her with something very much like admiration in his eyes.

Michonne sighed. "I had help. Mike's mom…" she did not like to think about that time. To say she had been a mess was an understatement. Those first few weeks of grieving had hit her like a freight car.

"Is that where Dre is?" Rick questioned.

"Yes," Dre blessedly had an excellent relationship with his paternal grandmother. It was convenient now, especially with Rick over at her house for adult sleepovers.

Rick looked away thoughtfully, "What do you think Dre will do, when he finds out about us?"

The question caught her by surprise. It was one that had plagued her, if she was being totally honest with herself. "He already loves you…" she began.

"But I'm not his father," he finished for her. There was no malice in Rick's tone, just a pure and simple statement of fact.

Michonne felt guilt flood her. Rick was such a good man, one she should be happy to introduce to Dre as her romantic partner. Guilt still nagged at her when she even considered that possibility. "I just don't want Dre to forget Mike," she admitted, unable to meet his piercing blue gaze.

"What makes you think he will forget his father?" Rick was watching her, a wrinkle forming between his eyes.

Michonne felt her heart begin to pound faster, the tell-tell signs of a panic attack rising. "Dre was so young," she took a deep breath. "If we didn't have pictures of Mike, I don't know if he would remember him at all."

Rick adjusted his position again, bringing his hand up to her shoulder reassuringly, looking thoughtful. "Do you know what it feels like, being shot?" he asked. Michonne felt her eyes widen. Rick didn't often discuss his injury. He continued on calmly, "It doesn't hurt; not at first. It's like a numbness fills you up, like the breath gets sucked out of you. Then you start to realize what's happened, and you start to panic, start to smell the blood. That's when the pain hits."

"Rick," she felt tears gathering behind her eyes. She reached for him, but he caught her hand, guiding it to the place under his hair and just above his left ear. The scar was still there, pronounced and jagged.

"That pain is nothing compared to being in a coma," he continued, his fingers pressing into hers. "You have to make some choices when you're close to death. You have to choose what you're going to do."

"You chose to live," she whispered, beginning to understand his point.

"I chose to fight," he amended. "Brushes with death tend to put things in perspective pretty quickly. You learn not to waste time worrying about things you can't change." His eyes found hers again.

"What are you saying?" she asked him quietly, fear rising in her.

Rick kissed the inside of her palm, his lips lingering against her skin as he spoke. "I'm saying that you and Dre, you got dealt a bad hand. A complete shit one. But you chose to keep fighting. And Dre, he's never going to forget his dad because you will make sure that Mike is remembered, whether I'm here for it or not." He guided her hand in his hair down over his shoulder.

"I want you here," she assured him, swallowing hard.

Rick's lips pulled up into the hint of a smile. "I know we always talk about Lori. I know it's part of your job, but this is more than a job now," he pulled her body closer to his, pressing them chest to chest. "I just want to understand you the way you understand me."

The tears did come then, large salty drops that dripped down her cheeks in rapid succession. Rick's calloused hands wiped them away.

"It's going to be tricky," Rick took her hand, "But I hope you know that I'm not trying to replace your husband. He'll always be a part of your life."

Michonne swallowed. "And Lori will be a part of yours, baby or no baby, she's Carl's mom. And that's fine," she added.

"That's fine," he repeated, his smile widening.

"Maybe next time you're here, you can make Dre these pancakes." She gestured to the empty plate. "It's his favorite food." She kissed him, deeper this time, determined to make amends for her uncertainty. Rick responded in kind.

"Pancakes it is," he assured her, smiling.

She was crawling into his lap again when his phone began to buzz, bouncing around on the bedside table. He gave her an apologetic peck on the lips before leaning over to check it. "It might be work," he explained.

"No worries," she took a moment to wipe the remnants of tears from her cheeks. When she looked back up, Rick was frowning at his phone. "What is it?" she asked, instantly on guard.

"Shane's calling me," he answered.

"Are you going to take it?" she asked, her eyes falling to the screen. Shane's name was glowing there.

"What do you think?" he looked at her.

"I want to hear what he has to say," she looked back at him. Rick hit answer almost immediately, the line clicking as he moved to speakerphone.

"What do you want, Walsh?" Rick's greeting was far from friendly but not outwardly hostile. Michonne waited with baited breath.

"You and me need to talk, man," the raspy voice was unmistakable. Michonne looked up at Rick. He seemed surprised. He glanced at her, silently asking for confirmation. She nodded once. It was past time the two men hashed this out.

"Yeah, I'm guessing we do," Rick told him. "Where do you want to meet?"


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: I hope everyone had a lovely Christmas! Thank you so much for all of the detailed and amazing feedback. I wish I had time right now to respond to you all individually. For now, let me extend a sincere thank you from the deepest part of my heart.**

 **Without further ado, here is chapter 15...**

* * *

"Lori," Rick greeted his ex. The cafeteria of Carl's elementary school was crowded, the tables flattened and leaning against the walls to make room for scores of white plastic chairs. They were lined up in an orderly fashion, already bearing the weight of nearly a hundred parents and siblings of Carl's classmates.

Lori managed to be cordial for a moment, standing up to greet Rick with an awkward hug. Then, her eyes fell on the woman behind him. "What is she doing here?" Her whisper was frantic.

"Lori, you know Michonne Jackson," Rick kept his voice even as he reached backwards for his girlfriend. He knew that this moment had to happen at some point. Better sooner than later. Lori needed to get used to this; Michonne wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

"Miss Wayne," Michonne shook Lori's hand firmly. "Good to see you again. Happy holidays." If this experience was uncomfortable for her, she wasn't letting on. Rick had expected nothing less, but was still relieved.

Lori looked positively gobsmacked. "Miss Jackson," she recovered enough decorum to muster a tight smile. "What brings you out tonight?" Rick recognized that tone. He'd be getting an earful soon.

"Carl invited her and Dre," it was Rick who answered, reaching down to scoop Andre into his arms. The little boy was watching Lori carefully, assessing.

"You're Carl's mommy?" He asked.

"Dre, this is Miss Wayne," Michonne spoke up.

"I am Carl's mom," Lori shook his little hand, looking like she had something sour in her mouth.

"Nice to meet you," Andre was blissfully unaware of the tension.

Rick gestured to a row of empty chairs, desperate to speed this encounter along. Lori took the seat on his left, Michonne took the chair to his right, Andre on her lap.

"Shane can't be around Carl, but you can bring your lawyer to his concert?" Lori hissed this under her breath, her eyes still forward towards the stage.

"She's more than my lawyer now," Rick kept his eyes facing the front as well. "I figured Shane might've mentioned it." Michonne was charitably fussing with Dre, allowing Rick the room to deal with Lori's temper.

"Does Carl know?" Lori's glance turned past Rick and to Michonne. The normally stoic lawyer was showing her son something on her phone.

"He will tonight," Rick wasn't worried about Carl's reaction. "Speaking of Carl knowing..." he looked down at the bump pushing just against the fabric of Lori's sweater.

"We are waiting until after Christmas," Lori cut her eyes at him.

Rick wanted to pursue the topic further, but the children were lining up on the stage.

"There's Carl!" Dre pointed a trembling finger, buzzing with excitement.

Four pairs of eyes turned towards the stage. Carl was waving at them frantically, his blue eyes round and wide. Rick, Lori, and Michonne all waved back.

"He looks nice," Rick complimented Lori on Carl's outfit.

"I know what I'm doing when it comes to my son," her response was clearly about more than just dress clothes.

Michonne caught Rick's attention from the corner of his eye. She looked almost amused by the situation. "Are you ok?" he asked. He hated to neglect her to talk to Lori.

"I'm fine," she squeezed his hand. They'd talked about this earlier, weighing the pros and cons of stepping out together in front of Lori. In the end, Michonne had announced that there was nothing to be afraid of. Lori had moved on. There was no reason he shouldn't. Lori seemed to feel differently. She was pointedly ignoring them with almost studious concentration.

"Can I sit with you, Officer Grimes?" Andre brought the attention back to himself, straining to get a better look at the stage,

"Sure," Rick flattened his legs out, making space for the small boy. Michonne smiled, handing him over. He and Michonne had been made no effort to hide their relationship from Dre over the last week. Dre seemed to have not noticed any change in their relationship, but was perfectly at ease with Rick being around more.

Rick felt Lori's eyes on him as he settled Andre on his lap. Rick kept his own gaze on the stage. The lights dimmed and three dozen 3rd graders began to sing high pitched Christmas carols. Michonne took out her phone to record the event.

"Thank you," he whispered to her, his arm snaking down to rest on her back. Parents of Carl's classmates were giving the two of them curious glances. He didn't mind. If they were gossiping about him, he'd much rather it be due to Michonne than a video of a midday street brawl.

"No problem," Michonne smiled back, zooming in on Carl.

A few hours earlier...

"Took you long enough, man," Shane was leaning against his gray SUV, his eyes shielded by reflective aviators. He was no longer in uniform; instead he was shrouded in a black leather jacket and jeans.

The sun was hanging low over the horizon. Winter was in full swing, the air cold, the ground covered in a layer of frost. There might even be snow this year, the first Carl would have ever seen. It boded well for the holidays. Rick had grand plans for Christmas, but first he had to make sure he didn't hit Shane again.

"I had things to do, Shane," Rick could not keep the irritation out of his voice. Criticism from his former best friend was not something he was prepared to put up with today.

"You brought your lawyer with you?" the darker-haired man gestured behind Rick.

Michonne was sitting in the passenger seat of his truck, bundled up and looking completely relaxed with the windows down. "Afraid I'm gonna start something?"

"Nah," Rick longed to wipe that infuriating smirk off Shane's face. "She's here so that I don't waste too much time talking to you. We're going to dinner after this." Rick folded his own arms over his chest. "So let's make this quick."

"No shit?" Shane looked almost impressed. He lowered his shades to look more closely at Michonne, going so far as to nod in greeting. Michonne raised her hand, waving nonchalantly. Despite her casual attire, her amour was back up; she looked every inch the lawyer she was in the courtroom. Rick smiled at her from a distance. She quirked her lips back at him.

"So, you're done with Lori then?" Shane asked, bringing Rick's attention back to him. There was a little too much glee in Shane's tone for Rick's liking.

"I thought that was pretty clear when I divorced her," Rick snorted. "What did you want to talk about? I don't have all day." He was already irritated that Shane had interrupted his morning in bed with Michonne, so much so that he refused to see him on that day. He needed to be level-headed and mellow, or their conversation was liable to end up like the one from a few months back. It had taken a full 48 hours before he considered himself calm enough. Michonne agreed to accompany him and for that, he was relieved. For one thing, her presence was soothing, for another, it was good for her to hear the conversation, especially as his legal representation. The central reason for was simple: he wanted her there.

"Why are you bothering Lori about my baby?" Shane cut to the chase, managing to look both pissed off and possessive. Rick held back an exasperated sigh. His question was not unexpected.

"Why are you so sure it's yours?" Rick countered. If Shane had a fool-proof argument, Rick would love to hear it. He was at a precarious point in life. One less complication would be welcome.

"Do I have to spell it out for you?" Shane was agitated already, snatching the sunglasses from his face. "You're asking me to give you details I know you don't want to hear, man." He chuckled, his smirk widening.

Rick resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Shane could never keep himself from bragging, even when he knew he could take an ass whooping for it. "We were still married, Shane," he pointed out, "she was sleeping with me too."

There was a heavy silence then. Rick suspected that he had caught his old friend off guard. He wasn't sure what Shane thought had been going on between husband and wife for those three months after he had come out of that coma, but it clearly wasn't intimacy. It appeared that Lori had deceived them both. There was a modicum of comfort to be gleaned from that.

"Don't matter," Shane said at last, covering his eyes again. "I know that baby's mine."

"The hell you do," Rick took a step closer to him. "Not until we get the test. Then we'll both know."

"Why can't you just leave it alone, man?" Shane moved towards him too, his voice rife with irritation. "You've got your hot lawyer now, a new partner, a new life. Why do you want this baby?"

Rick paused. For the first time, he could see the hints of the jealousy that Michonne consistently told him were so obvious.

"This isn't something I asked for," Rick chose his words carefully, "But if that baby is mine, I have to do the right thing, I have to."

"You already took Carl from her," Shane accused, "You don't need to stress her out about this too."

"What do you mean, I took Carl from her?" Rick was annoyed now. "She has our son five days out of the week."

"You know damn well he's all mopey around her, dragging his feet like the world's come to an end," Shane laughed wryly.

"Yeah, well his parents just split up," Rick did roll his eyes now. "I'm told that can take a toll on a kid."

"We used to be close, man. We used to talk all the time. Now the kid doesn't even want to look at me," Shane lamented, dangerously close to pouting.

"Are you serious?" Rick was starting to think that Shane might have lost his mind. He had always run hot, even when they had been kids, but he had never before been delusional. "You broke his parents up. And he ain't your son, he's mine," Rick got as close as he dared now, trying not to yell. He was sick of this, sick of Shane trying to poach what was his. "Carl is mine," Rick emphasized the point.

"He's going to be my step-son soon," Shane threw back, his voice as confident as it had been bragging about his conquests all those decades ago. Rick was surprised to find that he didn't care.

"Doesn't make you his dad. If Carl doesn't want to talk to you, that's Carl's business. I'm not going to force him." Rick had to admit to himself that he was proud of the choice Carl made. His son could spot a phony.

"Fine, Carl's yours," Shane pushed his glasses back up his head. "But this baby is mine."

"If the test says it is, sure," Rick had never allowed Shane to bully him and he wasn't about to start now.

"We don't need a test," he reiterated. "I know."

"Do you?" Rick let that question hang in the air for a moment. "It ain't going to bother you? What if the baby's got blue eyes? What is it's got curly hair?" He gestured to his own mane of curls. "You still going to be so sure that it's yours?"

"Fuck you, man," Shane responded predictably.

"You don't have to like it," Rick refused to take the bait, "Lord knows I've got no love left for you. But know that I'm not backing down man, not without the test."

"You don't know when to quit," Shane griped.

"Nope," Rick moved his hands to his hips.

Shane looked at him for a long while. Rick stared back, unwilling to break the silence first.

"If I get her to take the test, will you let me be around Carl? Without that damn court guy hovering around?" Shane leaned backwards on his car, clearly calculating.

"You're trying to negotiate?" Rick had to laugh at his gall. "You don't have a leg to stand on."

"I could convince her," Shane shrugged. "Or we could go to court."

Rick wasn't about to let him use Carl as leverage. "I'll see you in court, then.

Shane let out a rough bark of a laugh. "Your hot lawyer better bring her A game," he cautioned.

"Or what?" Rick felt a surge of anger, "You going to follow her around the store some more?" He'd never gotten a chance to confront Shane about this. He wasn't going to miss his opportunity now.

Shane scoffed, "It ain't against the law to go grocery shopping, man."

"You gave my son a phone," so long as they were bringing things up, Rick got started on the list.

"Lori already reamed me for that," Shane's annoyance was growing. "I ain't got time to listen to you boo-hooin' too."

"You're lucky it was Lori," Rick could feel his temper rising.

"What are you gonna do? Tell your lawyer on me?" Shane taunted.

"You think Lori's going to want you if you get Carl taken away from her?" Rick asked him, cocking a brow. "Baby or no, she's not going to take that laying down." Lori had a temper of her own. Maybe it was time Shane got a taste of it.

"You've got no idea the mistake you're making." It was an empty threat and Shane looked like he knew it.

"I'll take my chances," Rick shook his head. "And Shane, you ever go behind me and Lori's back again with Carl, or if you ever follow my girl around again, we're going to have a much bigger problem than this baby." Rick would break more than his nose if he had to.

"Whatever, man," Shane was already unlocking his car door. "I'll say hello to Lori for you," his parting shot held no sting.

"No need," Rick was already on his way back to his truck and Michonne. He watched Shane drive away.

"Well," Michonne raised an eyebrow when Rick joined her. "That solved nothing."

"I didn't expect it to," Rick admitted. He started the engine, pumping up the heater. It whirred to life with an audible hiss.

"He's childish," Michonne observed, rolling her eyes.

"He's scared," Rick amended. "He knows the baby could be mine."

"Jealous," she said knowingly, shaking her head.

"Yeah, I guess you're right about that ." Rick's mind was still spinning. Shane had always been the popular one. He told Michonne as much.

"Popularity is one thing," she waved her hand as if it were inconsequential. "It's another thing to be the kind of man that people rally around. There's a lot to be jealous of, with you." Michonne smiled at him, poking him playfully. Rick felt his cheeks flush.

"He called you my 'hot lawyer'," Rick turned the attention back to her. Shane was right on that point. Even when she was in full gladiator mode, Michonne eclipsed the competition.

"Well, at least he's aware of some things," she laughed.

"Looks like we're going to court again," Rick exhaled. He'd been prepared for the possibility but it still exhausted him.

"Shane sounded pretty confident," Michonne observed. Her lips were pursed, her habit when she was strategizing.

"He always sounds like that," Rick rolled his eyes. "It's how he intimidates people."

"I meant about being Carl's step-dad," she watched him carefully for his reaction.

"You think he's proposed?" Rick couldn't imagine Shane ever settling down.

"He's convinced himself the baby is his," Michonne raised her brows at him.

Rick felt the tendrils of disgust tugging at him. He thought Lori had better taste. "If he's Carl's stepdad, we can't keep him away from Carl."

"Well, there's one thing you could do," Michonne looked as though she was hesitant to suggest it.

"Sole custody?" The thought had been playing in his mind for weeks now. He didn't want to keep Lori from Carl, but Shane was something else.

"I know it's not what you wanted initially," Michonne reached forward to warm her hands over the heater. "If you wanted it now, I can get it done." He could tell her mind was spinning, weaving a plan.

Rick grasped her hands in his own. "I have to talk to Carl first," he would not spring this on his son without consulting him.

"Looks like you have a few things to talk to him about," Michonne observed. He turned her hands over in his, rubbing some heat back into them.

"Some things better than others," Rick kissed her. "Thanks for coming with me," he told her.

"You could have handled it on your own," she sounded confident.

"I don't know. I might have hit him again. Cocky bastard," Rick relinquished his hold on her reluctantly and put the truck in drive. "I have to see Lori again in a few hours. I don't know if I'll be able to look at her."

"Carl's concert?" Michonne asked sympathetically.

"I wish you could come," Rick hated the idea of sitting next to Lori, cramped up in a grade school cafeteria.

"If you need me there, I'll come." Michonne looked over at him, her expression serious.

"Really?" Rick couldn't imagine a less desirable scenario to volunteer for.

Michonne shrugged. "We have to rip the bandaid off at some point. Lori should know."

"Shane is bound to tell her," Rick reasoned, unwilling to coerce Michonne into doing something she didn't want to do.

"I'm not so sure," she looked thoughtful, her full lips pursing again. "Half of the thrill of an affair is the whole thing being forbidden. If the thrill is gone..." she scrunched her face up.

"True. But I don't know what you and me have to do with that," he wasn't following her reasoning.

"If Lori reacts with jealousy, that can't sit well with Shane."

"So you think he'd keep it from her?" Rick asked.

"It wouldn't be the first thing he lied about," she reminded him. Rick considered this. It was more than just Lori and Shane's reaction. He wanted Michonne with him for these kinds of occasions.

"Carl asked me to invite you," Rick admitted. "But I was afraid you wouldn't want to."

She smiled at him. "I'm not afraid of Lori. Or Shane."

"Then Michonne Jackson, would you like to go to an elementary school concert with me?" he asked grandly.

"As long as Dre can come too, I'd love to." She agreed with a laugh.

Just after the concert...

"Mom, Dad!" Carl's little feet beat a frantic path up the linoleum tile towards them. "You guys both came!"

"Of course," Rick caught him as he jumped up.

"You did great," Lori complimented, ruffling his hair. For a moment, Rick felt a dizzying sense of deja vu. There had been a time, albeit brief, when this had worked.

"Miss Jackson!" Carl's eyes at last found Michonne. She was standing behind Rick, holding Andre's hand. Rick turned around to her, smiling at Carl's reaction.

"I didn't know you could sing," she teased, "you're full of surprises."

"I didn't know you were coming," Carl wiggled out of Rick's arm. He released his son, watching him rush towards Michonne. She bent down to hug Carl while Dre danced excitedly around them. Lori watched it all, her expression unreadable.

"So you're really doing this then?" She pulled Rick aside as Carl introduced Dre to his classmates. Michonne stood vigilantly in the background. Rick longed to return to her but steeled his nerve and looked at Lori instead.

"Michonne and I? Yes, we're really doing this," he watched his new girlfriend. She felt his gaze and turned her head to him, her eyes silently asking if he was all right. He nodded at her.

"I don't get it," Lori watched Michonne as well, "She's so severe."

"You don't need to understand," Rick couldn't keep from scowling. Lori's assessment could not have been further from the truth, "Plus, you're with Shane. You don't get to judge anyone's choices."

She returned his scowl but stayed silent.

"Look, Lori," Rick pried his eyes off of Michonne. "I talked to Shane today."

"What did he say?" She asked sharply.

"He's not budging on the baby thing. And he's talking a big game about being Carl's future stepdad."

"Is he?" Lori's tone was unreadable.

"That's my question," Rick turned to her. "Is he?"

"We've talked about it," she admitted.

"And?" Rick prompted.

"It's complicated," she sighed.

"Lori, take the test. And tell Carl," he was sick of going on in circles. "Or I'm going to have to do what I need to."

"Meaning what?" Her words attracted the attention of a few onlookers. They were clearly listening in, waiting for the opportunity to come over and meet the new woman in his life.

"Meaning I'll do what's best for Carl." Rick took no pleasure in telling her this, acutely aware of their audience.

"So you and your lawyer came down here to threaten me?" Her voice was dripping with venom.

"We came to watch Carl. I think it's best you take the weekend, talk things over with Shane." He put a hand on her shoulder. She shook it off.

"Just go," she ground out through gritted teeth.

"I'll see you Monday," Rick walked off towards his son. "Go say goodbye to your mother," he told Carl through a forced smile. The boy ran off to do as instructed.

"How'd it go?" Michonne asked under her breath.

"We'll see on Monday," he said. He waved at a few recognizable faces. They took the invitation, moving over to say hello. He introduced her to a few families. Michonne took all of the curious glances and veiled looks in stride.

"Your neighborhood is nosy," she observed after a few soccer moms moved away, obviously chattering excitedly about this new development in Grimes family drama.

"I'm pretty sure they heard me talking to Lori," he told her.

Michonne looked as though she wanted to comfort him, but settled for a quick squeeze of his hand. "You're doing the right thing," she assured him.

Rick caught her hand, lacing their fingers together. Andre appeared not to notice but Carl's eyes were drawn immediately to it as he walked back.

"Why are you holding hands?" His eyes were wide with curiosity.

"Let's go to the truck, son," Rick grabbed Carl with his free hand while Michonne secured Andre. "We have something to tell you boys."

"is it something good?" Carl asked, his face brightening.

"It's very good," Rick promised him with a smile.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Here's the chapter as we go into the new year. May all of you have a blessed holiday and stay safe as you ring in 2017! Happy New Year and thank you again for all of the support.**

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"What kind of gift do you think your mom might like?" Michonne looked down at the boy standing beside her. His head was shielded by his favorite hat, masking his face. The two were stationed in a department store aisle, staring at a wall of women's scarves and mittens. Carl shrugged, uncharacteristically quiet. The store around them was packed, necessitating that she stand close to her boyfriend's son. Part of her wished to hold his hand the way she would Andre's, but she wasn't sure how he would respond. He had been quiet since she and Rick had told him the news.

"I don't know what she likes, anymore," Carl was morose. He ran his hands over the cotton of several scarves.

Michonne felt her chest constrict. Andre had taken the announcement that she and Rick were a couple joyously, elated that Carl and Rick were going to be around much more. In fact, he and Rick were already waiting for them in the food court. Carl had announced that he needed to buy a gift for his mother and Michonne had agreed to accompany him. The silence as they went about their task had been daunting.

"What's her favorite color?" Michonne asked him. It felt odd to be searching for gifts for a woman she would have much preferred to forget, but she cared about Carl, and Lori was not going to stop being his mother.

Carl shrugged again. Michonne held back a sigh. She wished she knew what to say to comfort him. It occurred to her that this was the first time the that she was alone with him.

"Miss Jackson," he looked up at her, his eyes shaded from the fluorescent lights overhead by the brim of his hat. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course," she took a deep breath to calm her nerves and bent down to look at him.

"Do you think you could make it so I live with just my dad?" he asked quietly, his eyes on the floor.

"You don't want to live with your mom anymore?" Michonne reached out for him, her fingers just brushing his shoulder. Carl did not pull away. Rick had mentioned the possibility of pushing for sole custody, but it was another thing to hear it from his son. She wondered what was so wrong with living in Lori's house and if it was something she could change. If they were hurting Carl, she wouldn't pull any punches in court.

"I feel bad, but…" he sniffled. "I only have fun when I'm with dad. Mom is so mean all of the time now."

"Mean how?" she asked, trying to stay calm. She wondered if Carl discussed these things with Rick.

"She's just grumpy all of the time. If I mention Dad, she gets worse."

"She's going through some changes," Michonne understated the problems, attempting to preserve what was left of this little boy's innocence. He was dangerously close to tears already.

"Sometimes I feel bad," his bright blue eyes were watering.

"Why do you feel bad?" Michonne moved the pair of them to the side, allowing shoppers to pass by.

"I think I like you more than I like her," he admitted.

A curious mixture of joy and sympathy filled Michonne. "It's ok to be angry with her," she told him. "I was angry with my husband when he died. Sometimes you can't help it."

"Why were you mad?" Carl wiped his eyes.

"He had a friend that always used to get him in trouble. I always told him to stop hanging out with him," Michonne chose her words carefully. "He didn't listen to me. That friend ended up getting my husband hurt very badly." She paused for a breath, her eyes welling up. She was fairly certain that the key to comforting another person was not to start crying yourself.

"Is that how he died?" Carl's question was so quiet that she almost didn't hear it.

"Yes," she nodded, wiping her eyes on her sleeve.

"When did you stop being mad about it?" Carl scooted closer to her.

"Sometimes I'm still angry," she admitted. "It helps to focus on the good things. Like Andre and you and your dad."

"My dad makes you happy?" Carl pushed his hat up higher, his eyes watching her carefully.

"Very," this was another understatement. She did not possess the words to accurately describe how Rick made her feel. It had only been two weeks since they decided to try out being in a relationship, and already it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

"You make him happy too," Carl wiped his face. He exhaled shakily, then mustered a small grin. "I think my mom likes the color blue."

"Good choice," Michonne stood up, her hand still on his shoulder. "Do you think she'd like this one?" she touched a cashmere scarf that was on sale. She longed to ask him more questions, but thought better of it. Rick should be the one to talk to Carl about where he wanted to live.

"This one is nice," Carl agreed, smiling up at her. He pulled it off the shelf. "Miss Jackson, can I ask you something else?"

"Sure," Michonne guided him around the shelves to the checkout line.

"What should I call you now?" he turned his head up to her.

"What do you mean?" she looked at him.

He drummed his fingers on his leg, a habit gleaned from his father. "Well, Miss Jackson is like a teacher's name," he reasoned. "And you're dating dad now. So, what do I call you?"

She paused, considering. It wasn't something she and Rick had talked about, but Carl had a point. "You can call me, Michonne," she decided.

Carl looked delighted. "Ok, Michonne," he dragged her name out almost experimentally. The entered a checkout line, jostled along with dozens of other last-minute shoppers. Carl reached for her hand almost instinctively, the little palm grasping tightly to her fingers. Michonne held onto him all the way back to the food court.

"We were about to start eating without you," Rick smiled at the pair of them from the tiny fiberglass table that he and Dre were stationed at. Andre was happily showing Rick the proper way to play Rock, Paper, Scissors, a game he had learned from a fellow student at daycare. A tray of fast food burritos was sitting in front of them.

"Long lines," Michonne said by way of explanation, kissing Rick on the cheek as she sat down. "Right, Carl?"

Carl took a seat by Dre and shot her a conspirator's smile. "Right, Michonne."

"Michonne?" Rick reacted with mild surprise, grinning at the two of them. "Well aren't you getting some adult privileges." Michonne glanced at him, silently asking if it was ok. He squeezed her hand under the table reassuringly.

"Can Dre call you, Rick?" Carl asked his father, taking his place in Dre's game. He sportingly allowed Andre to beat him in a few rounds.

"Sure thing," Rick rubbed Andre on the head.

"Who's Rick?" Dre asked, his focus still on forming scissors with his hands.

"That's me," Rick laughed.

"Oh," Dre's face scrunched up. "I call you that now?"

"Only if you want too," Rick assured him, passing out their lunch. "I grabbed you that chocolate you like," he handed her a candy bar. Michonne smiled at him.

"Carl got his mom a gift," she told him, unwrapping her treat and passing pieces around.

"We can wrap it before you give it to her tonight," Rick handed his son some hot sauce for her food.

"Are we spending Christmas at your house, Michonne?" Carl asked around a huge bite of food.

"Swallow before you talk," Rick admonished.

"Sorry," Carl blushed but looked at Michonne expectantly.

"Your dad is picking you up early in the morning," she confirmed. She was both excited and incredibly nervous for the holiday; Mike's mother would be meeting Rick for the first time. She had no idea how her mother-in-law would react to a new man in her life.

"Momma, guess what?" Andre set down his burrito, giving her a sly smile. "I know what you're getting for Christmas."

"Do you?" she asked interestedly.

"Come on, Dre," Rick shot him a mock look of indignation, bringing a finger to his lips. "It's supposed to be a secret."

"I won't tell, Officer Rick," Andre assured him, struggling to keep his food intact as he ate.

"I know what you got, too Dad," Carl grinned conspiratorially at Michonne.

"Guess I better give it to you tonight," Rick smiled at her. "Before these two blow the secret."

"Are you spending the night?" Dre asked.

Michonne caught Rick's eye over their sons' heads. They had yet to broach the subject about sleepovers while the kids were present. It was unlikely that Andre would understand what was going on, but Carl was old enough. Both boys were watching for their answer.

"It's cool," Carl said to his father, "If you do, I mean."

Rick glanced over at his son. "Well, now that I have your permission," he joked, pushing Carl's hat into his face playfully. Rick's cheeks were going scarlet.

"You're probably going to have to have a talk with Carl," Michonne told Rick quietly as they exited the mall. Carl and Dre were a foot or so ahead of the couple, chatting amicably about some toy that was popular at both of their schools.

"I'll probably save it for after Christmas," Rick drew her under his arm, looking daunted by the very mention of the dreaded talk.

"I'm glad Dre has a few years to go on that one," Michonne laughed, pinching him lightly.

"So what do you think about sleepovers?" he asked her.

"Maybe we try it, just see how it goes," Michonne considered their options. "It's not like Dre can always be elsewhere when you're around."

"You're ok with that?" Rick was looking at her hard.

"I'm ok with that," she confirmed, kissing him briefly on the lips.

"Carl mentioned something else while we were shopping," she whispered, loathe to betray the child's confidence. "You may want to ask him about where he wants to live."

Rick looked at her in surprise. "What did he say?"

"Is it all right if I tell you later?" they were navigating through rows and rows of cars.

Rick nodded. "I'll see you tonight," he told her as they made it to the parking lot. He hugged Dre before lifting him into his booster seat.

"Bye Carl!" Andre waved. Carl leaned in to embrace him.

"See you tomorrow, Michonne," he hugged her around the waist. She smiled at him.

"Take care," she told him, squeezing him tightly. "Have fun tonight."

"I'll try," he promised her.

Rick leaned in to kiss her. "Do you need anything for tomorrow?"

"Just bring yourself," she smiled at him, reluctantly relinquishing his hand.

There was plenty to keep her busy for the duration of the day as she prepped the food for Christmas dinner. Andre sportingly agreed to help her, decorating cookies for dessert. He was stationed on his step stool, smoothing icing on sugar cookies with intense concentration.

"Momma?" he questioned her while she peeled potatoes. "Do you love Officer Rick?" he continued with the frosting studiously.

Michonne's hand almost slipped off the vegetable. "I like him a lot," she answered, trying to keep her voice light.

"The way you liked Daddy?" he asked, applying sprinkles.

Michonne felt her chest compress. "Daddy was different than Rick," she stopped her cooking to walk over to her son. "And no one will ever replace him." She hoped that Dre would understand.

Dre nodded thoughtfully. "I like Rick a lot though." He set a finished cookie down on the counter. "I think Daddy would have liked him."

Michonne smiled, wiping her face for the second time today to hide her tears. "I think he would have liked him too. What do you remember about him?" She had never asked him this before, afraid of the answer.

"He was funny," Dre said without hesitation. "He laughed a lot. He liked to play with me." He smiled.

Michonne lost the fight against her emotions, her cheeks wet. She wished that she could go back in time and film every second of those moments. She had always thought that Dre would have a lifetime with his father. Two and a half years was far too short.

"Don't cry," Andre instructed. "Christmas is a happy day." He handed her a gingerbread man-shaped cookie to illustrate his point.

She accepted the cookie, the sugar cutting through the salt of her tears as she bit into it. "This is good," she complimented. Dre smiled at her.

"This one is for Officer Rick," he held up a cookie that had heavy sprinkles on its head.

"Is that hair?" Michonne laughed wetly.

"Yup," Dre said happily, continuing with decorating. "I'm going to make you and Carl too."

"I'm sure we'll all love them," she assured him.

"Can we make a cookie hat? For Carl?" he asked.

"Sure thing," Michonne retrieved the premade dough from the refrigerator.

There was a full plate of cookies by the time Rick arrived in the evening. He complimented Dre warmly on his artistic abilities over dinner. Michonne watched them interact, her heart filling up. Rick's paternal instincts came naturally. He was in full father-mode tonight, helping Andre pour out a glass of milk and load cookies onto a saucer.

"Will Carl be here in the morning?" Dre asked from his bed, already dozing off from the long day.

"He'll be here when you wake up," Rick assured him, ruffling his hair.

"Merry Christmas Momma. Merry Christmas Officer Rick." Dre pulled the covers over his head after Michonne kissed him goodnight.

Rick reached for waist, pulling him close to her as the retreated down the hall. Michonne leaned backwards into him, grateful for the contact. She wanted to crawl into bed with Rick beside her, but they were far from done for the night.

"Do you need help with Santa duties?" he asked her once they were safely in her bedroom.

"I'd appreciate it. Did you bring Carl's presents?" she sat down on the mattress.

"I did," Rick sat down beside her. "They're in the car."

"They can wait an hour or so," she sighed.

"Long day?" he asked sympathetically.

"I had a heart to heart with both of our sons," she confessed.

"Want to talk about it?" he removed his shoes and scooted back up the bed, resting his head against her pillows. He reached for her and she allowed him to drag her up towards him.

"Not right now," she tucked her head into the crook of his shoulder. "How was your day?"

He sighed. "It was rough, bringing Carl back to Lori. He was trying to act happy, but I could tell he was upset." Rick kissed her on the forehead. "Is that what he talked to you about?"

"He wants me to make it so he can live with you all of the time," Michonne began to play with Rick's hair. He leaned into her.

"What do you think?" he asked her.

"You're a great father. You could do it. I would help you," she kissed him on the cheek.

"You're already helping me," he turned his head, bringing his lips down on hers. She pulled herself closer to him, deepening the kiss, feeling the stress ebb out of her. Rick cupped her face between his hands, leaning into her until she fell backwards. He settled on top of her, her legs around his waist.

"I'm glad you're here," she managed to tell him in-between his kisses. She slid her hands beneath his sweater, tracing the warm, sinewy muscle beneath. Rick pulled back just long enough to smile at her, his hands making their way to her waist. He began to kiss her neck, sucking lightly on her pulse point until she could feel her whole body begin to flush.

"I'm glad to be here," he punctuated his statement by rolling his hips against hers. "Are you nervous, about tomorrow?"

It was hard to focus on anything besides the way his body felt against hers, but she mustered the strength to answer. "A little bit."

"Don't worry," his hands found the skin beneath her sweater, the calloused palms flattening out against her back. "It's going to be great."

"How do you know?" he sounded so confident. He probably could have convinced her of anything.

"It's our first Christmas together," Rick said simply, pausing in his ministrations to look down at her. "It's already been amazing."

Michonne smiled up at him, her affection for him surging. She kissed him again as an answer, hooking her fingers into the front of his waistband. She heard his breath hitch.

"Wait a second," he pulled back from her. The loss of contact left her feeling disoriented.

"Where are you going?" she reached for him as he hopped off the bed.

"I'll be right back," he rushed over to kiss her again before beating a hasty retreat out of her bedroom.

Michonne sat up, taking advantage of his absence to search for her comfortable pajamas. She still needed to set the gifts in her closet under the tree, a task she should finish before she got too distracted. Rick re-entered her room just as she was bending over at her dresser looking for her pajamas. He gave her an enthusiastic squeeze before pulling her up into his chest.

"I have something for you," he turned her around, licking his lips nervously. "I don't want to give it to you in front of the kids." He placed a small, square box in her hands. "It's nothing big," he cautioned.

"I have something for you too," she fished her present for him out of her top drawer. She handed him the red envelope.

He took it with a smile, leading her back to the bed. "Open them at the same time?" he asked, raising his brows.

"All right," she agreed, her fingers toying with the edges of the ribbon around her gift.

"One…" Rick began to count dramatically, "two…"

"Three," she finished for him, lifting the lid. A large silver bangle gleamed up at her. She lifted it from its packaging, studying the intricately designed horses adorning the band. A tribal pattern bordered the delicately carved mares. It was exactly her taste in jewelry.

"Horses," Rick was still holding his present, his finger paused in the process of opening the envelope. He licked his lips nervously. "I know they might not be your favorite," he chuckled at the memory of that day, "but that was the day I realized how much I cared about you."

Michonne felt a rush of warmth and leaned forward to kiss him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Thank you," she smiled at him after breaking their kiss, already sliding the bracelet onto her arm.

"There's one more thing," Rick set his gift down and gestured to the box. She looked inside curiously. Beneath a layer of tissue paper was a small, metal key. She looked up at him questioningly. "I got a place," he told her. "It's nothing fancy, just a two-bedroom apartment. But it's not far from here."

"Is this the key?" she asked, clutching it between her fingers, her heart thumping.

"You're the first person I wanted to have a copy," he looked almost embarrassed. "It's not really a present, but…"

"Rick," she cut him off. "I love it. It's the nicest gift I've gotten in years."

He blushed, his ears turning scarlet in the low light of her room. "You can come see it, in a few days. I might need help picking out furniture."

"I'll be there," she assured him. "Open yours," she pointed at his envelope.

He grinned, tearing the paper and shaking out its contents. "Oh wow," he gasped.

"Carl helped me. He did some recon," she admitted. "A woman I once represented agreed to sell me her seats for the game."

"These are playoff tickets," he said in awe. "Four of them." He fanned them out.

"For you and Carl," she smiled. "And Dre and I, if you feel like sharing. It's not as good as your gift…"

"Are you kidding?" he asked incredulously. "This is great. I can't wait to go to a game with you." He kissed her, pulling her into his lap.

"It's just part one of the gift," she admitted.

"Oh yeah?" he asked.

"You'll have to wait a few minutes on the rest, Santa Claus," she reluctantly stood up, heading for her closet. A stack of wrapped gifts was hidden beneath a pile of shoes. Rick followed her, scooping them into his arm.

"Let's do this," he smiled gamely.

They finished in record time, silently piling gifts for Carl and Dre and even Mike's mother beneath the tree in orderly stacks. Michonne grasped Rick's hand once they were finished, leading him back to her room. She shut and locked the door behind her.

"What's part two?" he asked her.

"You have to unwrap the rest," she instructed. He looked confused for a moment, but then glanced down at her sweater. Understanding dawned. Carefully, he set their gifts to the side of her bed, then laid her down across the mattress. Michonne waited patiently, her heart thumping as he went to work removing layers. She lost her socks first, then the sweater. Desire flooded her when Rick got a look at the burgundy lace, his breath hitching as he looked at her. He removed her pants slowly, trailing his hands down her legs.

"Damn," he breathed. "Your gift is definitely better."

She giggled, enjoying his reaction. "I'll have to bring it to your new place."

"You'd better," he began to kiss her all over. She tugged his shirt over his head, then went to work on his jeans.

"Come here," she instructed, drawing him to her. The bracelet on her arm clinked softly against her wrist. Rick glanced down at it. "For the record," she told him, stroking his hair. "I had dreams about you for a week after that horseback ride."

"A week?" he smirked.

"I barely got any sleep," she laughed, recalling those torturous days.

"So, it wasn't just me then," he chuckled. "That's good to know."

"It wasn't just you," she assured him.

"What kinds of dreams were they?" he asked mischievously.

Michonne wet her lips, "The very good kind."

"Better than the real thing?" his question was muffled against her skin.

"Not even close," she allowed herself to fall backwards across the pillows, taking her boyfriend with her.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Chapter 17 is up! I hope 2017 is off to a great start for all of you. Thank you for your continued support. You all are amazing.**

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The sun had yet to rise on Christmas morning when Rick rolled out of Michonne's bed. She was still asleep, her face half concealed in a mound of pillows, her warm skin hidden from his gaze by her heavy down comforter. Leaving her took a colossal effort, especially when she reached for him in her sleep the moment he moved away. He retreated reluctantly to the bathroom to change, pulling on layers in the low light. He brushed his teeth quietly, emerging from the master bath feeling minty fresh. He crossed back over to her, sitting on the mattress beside her slumbering form.

"Merry Christmas, beautiful," he couldn't bring himself to leave without kissing her goodbye.

Michonne blinked herself awake, her lips quirking into a smile at the sight of him leaning over her. "Merry Christmas," her hand smoothed over his stubbled cheek as he kissed her on the forehead. "Hurry back," she instructed softly. "I can't start Christmas without you."

"I'll be back before you know it," he adjusted the blankets, pulling them over her bare shoulders.

The ground was icy beneath his feet as he traversed down her driveway. The world was nearly perfectly silent, a pristine field that almost glittered as the sun rose. It was a beautiful way to begin Christmas morning, despite his exhaustion. He supposed there might come a time when he went to bed with Michonne and just slept, but it didn't seem likely to be anytime soon. It was unusual, after years of lying in a bed pointedly trying to avoid touching his ex, to be so close to someone. He had no qualms about sleeping wrapped around Michonne and she never complained about his need for physical closeness. He often woke up with her clutching his hand, or with her fingers wound around his hair. It made getting out of bed in the mornings incredibly difficult for him, but the nights had become infinitely more pleasant.

He sat warming his truck for a moment, going over his plan for the day. Carl was his top priority. The holiday could not begin without his son. Rick wondered how Christmases would be in the future, if it would always begin with a lonely, early-morning car ride to pick Carl up from Lori. His mind began to run away from him as he drove, conjuring up images of upcoming holidays. They all involved waking up next to Michonne, the two of them sitting on the couch while their sons opened presents. They could host family dinners, cook together while their kids played. Maybe in a Christmas or two he would give her a ring; maybe they could add some more members to their family.

Rick shook his head, clearing the visions as he approached the house that had once been his home. He was getting way ahead of himself. He had to earn Michonne first, to get through the remnants of his old life before he could make a new one with her.

"Merry Christmas!" it was Carl who answered the door, already wearing his hat, still in his pajamas, clutching his overnight bag.

"Merry Christmas, son," he bent to hug him, delighted to see him.

"Let's go," Carl began to charge out of the door, but Rick stilled him.

"Is your mom around?" he asked.

"She's back there," Carl's mood fell instantly, a fact that did not go unnoticed by his father.

"Let's go wish her a Merry Christmas," Rick instructed, determined to set a cordial example.

They located Lori in the kitchen, still in her terrycloth robe. "Bye, baby," she hugged Carl and planted a kiss on his cheek. Carl attempted to smile at her.

"Merry Christmas, Lori," Rick nodded at her. "Is your family coming over?" There had not been a Christmas in the ten years of their marriage where her parents had not been present.

"And Shane," she nodded, shoving a loose lock of chestnut hair behind her ear. "You'll be with Hershel?"

"A little later," Rick knew that she was deliberately avoiding any mention of Michonne. It irritated him. Satisfied that he had at least made an effort, he turned to leave. "I'll have him back on Monday," he promised her. "We'll need to talk then."

Perhaps it was the holiday spirit that motivated Lori to be kind, but she nodded. "I'll see you Monday," she hugged him awkwardly. "I told Carl," she whispered this into his ear.

"Told him what?" Rick glanced over his shoulder to see where Carl was. The young boy was fiddling with his shoes, retying the laces.

"About the baby," Lori said quietly. Rick gave a start.

"You told him on Christmas Eve?" It took substantial effort to avoid blowing up on Lori. "How did he take it?" Carl could be incredibly closed off when he was processing information. Rick knew that this trait came from him, but it still bothered him.

"You'll have to ask him," Lori shrugged nervously. "Merry Christmas." This last statement was for both father and son, a polite dismissal. "Shane says Merry Christmas too."

Rick avoided rolling his eyes as Carl mumbled through the rest of his interaction with his mother.

"Merry Christmas," Rick repeated, eager to leave.

Carl all but ran to Rick's truck, tossing his bag in and climbing in after it. Rick pointed them in the direction of Michonne's house, steering them home.

"Carl, is everything ok?" his son was too quiet for Rick's tastes. Carl nodded, but his downcast eyes said otherwise. "You can talk to me, you know," he implored, reaching over to lay a hand on his shoulder.

"I don't want to bring it up and ruin Christmas," Carl sighed.

"You can't ruin Christmas," Rick smiled reassuringly at him. "What's on your mind?"

"Mom talked to me," Carl focused on the view outside the window. "She said she's pregnant. Did you know that?"

Rick nearly breathed a sigh of relief. Lori's timing was awful, but a weight had been lifted. "I did. She wanted to tell you herself."

"Is the baby yours?" Carl asked. Rick felt a pang of shock. "I know how babies happen," Carl looked at him, rolling his eyes.

"Remind me to talk to you about that," Rick let the topic go for now. "The baby might be mine," he leveled with his son, "It might be Shane's. Either way, you'll be a big brother soon."

"Should I be happy about it?" Carl fidgeted with his hat.

"You should feel the way you feel," Rick wished Michonne was here. She was better with words than he was. "How do you feel?"

"I'm not sure yet," Carl admitted. "Kind of excited. Kind of annoyed."

"Well, you don't have to decide now. Let it sit for a few days." Rick was aware that he was over-simplifying the situation, but Carl deserved something simple in his life. He'd been through much too much for a child who hadn't even lived a decade.

"Ok," Carl accepted this, dropping the subject for now.

"I have a surprise for you too," Rick broached a new topic. He would have to dive deeper into baby-talk with Carl soon, but not on Christmas.

"Are you and Michonne having a baby?" Carl asked. Rick's mouth fell open until he saw the tiny, tell-tell smirk that let him know that Carl was kidding.

"Smart aleck," he griped.

"Sorry. Just trying to lighten up," Carl grinned, looking more like his old self. "What's your surprise?"

"I got my own place," Rick came out with it. "It's not too far from here."

"You don't want to live with Mr. Greene anymore?" Carl seemed confused.

"I don't mind living with the Greenes," Rick clarified. "But this new place, it has a bedroom for you, and for me." Rick took a deep breath. "Michonne mentioned you asked her to fix it so I have you all of the time."

Carl flushed. "I shouldn't have asked that," he seemed ashamed.

"Is that what you want?" This may have been a conversation better left for another morning, but Rick was sick of all the ambiguity surrounding his life lately. He needed to know. "Tell me the truth," he pulled the car over a block from Michonne's house and turned to his son.

"It's what I want," Carl mumbled. "It's not that I don't want to see mom, but…" he seemed unable to finish.

"Carl," Rick placed his hands on both of Carl's shoulders. "If that is what you want, then we can do it. You just have to say the word."

"Will I not get to see mom ever?" Carl looked conflicted.

"You can see her anytime you want." Rick reassured him. No matter how he felt about Lori, he would never keep Carl from his mom. "During the week, on the weekends, in the summer. You just need to tell me."

"I want to live with you," Carl affirmed, his voice stronger now. "Maybe just until mom has the baby."

It was enough for Rick. "Then Michonne and I will ask for you."

"If I live with you, will I get to see Michonne more?" Carl questioned.

Rick shrugged, "Would that be something you enjoyed?"

Carl nodded emphatically. "I like her. I like her a lot. She's easy to be around."

Rick grinned, restarting his truck. "I know what you mean, son."

"Is it bad…that I like her more than mom sometimes?" Carl kept his eyes on the dashboard.

Rick paused for a moment, unsure of what to say. "Mom is going to always be your mom, no matter what happens with Michonne," he ventured.

"I know," Carl said quickly. "But Michonne doesn't treat me like all the other grown-ups, like I'm about to break or something."

"Who treats you like that?" Rick hadn't factored in other adults. It occurred to him that Carl had been fighting his own battle the last few months.

"The teachers at school, all of mom's friends, our neighbors. Mom and Shane," Carl listed them off. "Even you sometimes."

Rick digested this. "How do you want to be treated?" he asked.

"I just want to know the truth," Carl sniffled. "Even when it's bad."

"I'll tell you the truth as much as I can," Rick promised. "But there are some things I'm going to need time to figure out, Carl. And that might mean you have to wait before I tell you about them."

Carl paused, his face wrinkling. Michonne had told Rick that he made the very same face when he concentrated. "That's fair," Carl conceded.

"So, it's a deal then?" Rick held out a hand.

"Deal." Carl shook his hand. "You told me about Michonne right away though." He smiled.

"That's because Michonne is different. She's good news." Rick put the truck in drive, mirroring his son's expression.

"Is she waiting for us?" Carl asked, adjusting his hat.

"She is," Rick confirmed, driving the last few blocks.

"Hershel and everyone are coming later?" he continued his line of questioning.

"And some of her work friends," Rick added.

"I don't think Michonne has had a real Christmas like this in a while," Carl observed. "Her decorations were really dusty."

Rick was impressed. His son was too observant for his age. "Losing a spouse is hard."

"We should make sure today is special. She deserves it." Carl nodded seriously.

"We'll do that, son," Rick assured him. He rolled his truck into Michonne's driveway. Andre was already in the doorway, bouncing excitedly in his pajamas. Rick caught him as he ran outside, swooping him off the cold ground before he could get too chilly.

"Merry Christmas," Andre wrapped his arms around Rick's neck.

"Merry Christmas, Dre," Rick brought both boys into the house, shutting the door snuggly behind him.

"Momma says you're making pancakes," Dre informed him.

"She did, did she?" Rick jostled him jokingly, tossing him on the couch next to Carl.

Michonne emerged in the kitchen, dressed from head to toe in Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer pajamas. "I may have promised them breakfast," she admitted.

"Make chocolate chip! Please dad?" Carl joined Andre in his begging.

"All right," Rick acquiesced, "open your presents and I'll make you your pancakes."

Andre and Carl fell on their gifts with a cheer, settling down on the floor to hand one another boxes. Rick took a moment to look at Michonne. She was helping him to pull out bowls to make breakfast.

"I don't remember these pajamas," he said lowly to her, whispering in her ear as he passed behind her. "I like them."

"I'll be sure to wear them to bed from now on," she smirked at him, bumping her hips into his leg as he walked by.

"Maybe not _every_ night," he amended, giving her a teasing love tap on the bottom. He glanced back up at the kids. They were busy burying themselves in a cyclone of ripped wrapping paper.

"Don't be a Scrooge," she chastised, handing him a bag of flour.

"Sorry," he set the ingredients on the counter, reaching for her instead. Michonne allowed him to pull her into his chest. "Merry Christmas," he kissed her quickly, mindful of their kids.

"Merry Christmas," she hugged him tightly. Rick held her there, enjoying the moment.

"Thanks for having me," he told her.

She kissed him. "Thank you for being here," she pulled away slowly. "Do you want to show me how to make these famous pancakes?"

"It'd be my pleasure," he opened the bag of flour with a wink.

88888

Michonne flitted around her living room, making sure her guests were comfortable. They were in various states of food comas around the house. Glenn, Maggie and Beth were all stationed on the couch, offering pointers and Andre and Carl battled their way through a video game on the floor in front of them. Daryl was conversing with Sasha and Andrea in the corner near the tree. Hershel was content to sit on the loveseat with Mike's mother, Cheryl.

"It's going great," Rick appeared at her side, the smell of his cologne instantly comforting her. She smiled at him, taking a moment to appreciate his appearance in his blue denim shirt.

"It's not bad," she breathed a sigh of relief. Everyone had something to drink and dinner had gone off without any issues. She might make it out of this unscathed.

Rick took her hand without preamble, dropping a kiss on her knuckles. "Relax," he suggested.

Michonne tried to smile at him but she could feel the source of her anxiety's eyes on her. Cheryl was watching them from across the room, her expression unreadable. She had been perfectly pleasant the whole night, betraying no inkling of her opinions about the new man in her daughter-in-law's life. Michonne glanced across the room at her. Cheryl was a handsome woman, her smooth skin giving her a youthful appearance. She and Michonne had gotten on well enough while Mike had been alive. After his death, grief grew a rift between them. Andre was the glue that held them together through the thousands of words that went unsaid. Michonne often wished that the two of them were closer; her own parents were gone, her remaining family spread across the country. Cheryl had made her feel at home. She'd spent the better part of two years searching for that comforting feeling again.

"I think she likes me," Rick leaned over to whisper in Michonne's ear, his tone light. He kissed her on the cheek.

"What's not to like?" she asked, managing a smile this time.

"Officer Rick," Andre's voice drew both of their attention. "Can you help us with this level?"

"I think you want Glenn's help," Rick laughed. "I'm kind of old for video games."

"Please dad?" Carl threw in his request. "None of us can get past this."

"All right," Rick released Michonne's hand with a squeeze.

The moment he walked away, Andrea seized the opportunity to rush over, champagne in hand and loaded with questions.

"You two look adorable together," she handed Michonne a glass. "Things are going well?"

"They're great," Michonne couldn't keep the smile off her face. It was almost embarrassing how much she already cared for the accented police officer, but her friends seemed all too thrilled for her.

"You're spending a lot of time together," It was Sasha who made this observation, her ruby lips quirking around her own glass of wine. Her brown eyes flickered towards Rick, smashed between Glenn and Maggie on the couch. Carl was leaning over the couch, resting on his father's back while Dre was draped over his knee, both studiously watching his videogame technique.

"We told the kids," Michonne had yet to tell her friends. She loved how much her son loved Rick. It made everything much simpler.

"The _kids_?" Sasha smirked. "You guys sound like you're getting serious."

"Well…" Michonne scrambled for a way to explain. "There really is no point in doing it if we don't take it seriously." She had no desire to engage in anything casual, especially not with Rick.

"I can't blame you," Sasha hastily added, holding up her palms. "Look at him. He's clearly all in." Rick was leading the whole couch in a rousing cheer as he beat the level. He waved Daryl over, challenging him to a head to head competition. Hershel and Cheryl looked on amusedly.

"So, are you going to push for sole custody?" Andrea asked. "I heard the ex is making things hard."

"Rick is considering it," Michonne took a deep pull of her drink. "And Glenn talks too much." She didn't really mind; there were few secrets between them at the office. That fact notwithstanding, the last thing she wanted to talk about at a party was her boyfriend's ex. Andrea clearly had no plans of letting up until she got the answers she wanted.

Sasha was stationed near her, giving Michonne a sympathetic look. The mahogany colored woman was the first person she had told about her newfound relationship with Rick. She had plied her for details, but graciously avoided any discussion of Lori. Andrea had far less decorum.

"I thought he was all about sharing?" Andrea pulled her wavy blonde hair out of her face and into a low knot at the base of her neck.

"You're so damn nosy," Sasha chided with a chuckle.

"You know you want to know too," Andrea teased, sticking her tongue out. Sasha conceded, nodding and looking at Michonne expectantly.

Michonne rolled her eyes, but spoke, keeping her voice low, glad that the videogame sound effects were covering their conversation. "It's not Lori that he's worried about. It's her boyfriend."

"What's wrong with her boyfriend?" Andrea asked, refilling their glasses from a nearby bottle.

"He just doesn't seem stable." Michonne snorted. "He followed Dre and I once. He makes vaguely worded threats." Truly, Shane had been more irritating than threatening lately, a raincloud over the bliss she had been feeling.

"You should kick his ass," Sasha suggested, reaching for an appetizer off a nearby side table.

Michonne chuckled. "I've considered it."

"Who is this guy?" Andrea reacted with concern, her eyes squinting.

"The one from the video. With dark hair." Michonne nibbled distractedly at her hors d'oeuvre, her eyes still on Rick. He looked handsome, his dark hair curling along the collar of his shirt.

"But what's his name?" Her friend succeeded in temporarily pulling Michonne's mind out of the gutter. Andrea fiddled with her phone, calling up the video.

"Shane Walsh." It was hard to think about Shane at all when Rick turned, grinning at her over the back of the sofa.

"Want to play a round?" he called back to her.

"Maybe in a minute," she waved at him and the kids, urging them to continue. Rick turned back to his game with a wink.

"Walsh?" Andrea finally located what she was looking for in the ethers of the internet. There was too much recognition in her voice to ignore. Sasha looked at her curiously.

"You know him?" she asked.

Michonne pried her eyes from her boyfriend to look at her friend for the answer.

"Only in the biblical sense. We met at a bar." Andrea was trying to zoom in on the video.

"Oh shit..." Sasha exhaled, gulping her champagne.

"When was this?" Andrea had Michonne's full attention now. Her pulse began to race, praying that she wasn't about to encounter even more drama. Lori had finally told Carl, a promising development in their future. Michonne wasn't fool enough to think that Rick's ex wouldn't always have a presence in their life, but this was getting ridiculous.

"Two...maybe three weeks ago," Andrea drained her glass.

"You had sex?" Michonne' stomach was turning over.

"It's not exactly past tense." Andrea admitted, looking slightly embarrassed.

"Shit," Michonne had no love for Lori, but this made the situation considerably more complex.

"It's not like I knew," Andrea refilled her glass again and threw it back. "He was all surly and southern and kind of dangerous looking..."

"Shit, Andrea," Michonne felt her face contort into a frown. If there was anything that could kill her libido for Rick, it was picturing her coworker with Shane Walsh.

"Are you sure that's him?" Sasha asked, doing an image search of Shane to confirm.

"That's him," Andrea glanced down at an old picture from when Rick came out of his coma. "That's Rick's ex?" She pointed at Lori.

"And possibly Shane's baby mama," Michonne took a deep draw from her glass. "Please keep your voice down." They were drawing some looks from both Hershel and Cheryl.

"Ugh," Andrea bemoaned. "It's a shame. He was so good in bed."

"Damn," Sasha cursed again. "You know how to pick them."

"Say's the girl who flirts with the ginger deli guy," Andrea fired back good naturedly.

"You're going to stop though, right?" Sasha rose a brow.

"Obviously," Andrea scoffed. "Now that I know he's the king of dysfunction…"

"I have to tell Rick," Michonne lamented, ignoring them both. This could put a damper on the night. She glanced over at him. He smiled again, getting up off of the couch to come towards her.

"What are you ladies talking about?" Rick walked over to them, Glenn and Maggie in tow.

All three women exchanged a look.

"I'll tell you later," Michonne promised, reaching for his hand. Her mind was spinning, formulating a plan of action. She wished that there could be just one night of uninterrupted time with Rick. Lori and her drama haunted them.

Rick leaned down to kiss her, his lips pressing just behind her ear, the warm breath sending a shiver through her that successfully put an end to all her planning. She gripped his hand in warning, but he only chuckled lowly against her face before giving her a quick peck and pulling away. Michonne knew that he fully understood the effect he had on her; he was playing a dangerous game in front of their friends.

"I hope you all don't mind if I take Michonne away from you for a few minutes," he drawled, pouring on the Southern charm. Michonne felt her lips quirk into a smile almost on their own accord.

"Go ahead," it was Sasha who answered, wearing a smirk of her own. She took the empty glass out of Michonne's hand. "You two have fun," she instructed, shooing them off.

"We can finish this conversation later," Andrea said pointedly, tucking her phone away.

Rich wasted no time in escorting her to the kitchen, under the guise of getting more food.

"What were you guys talking about?" he asked curiously.

Michonne sighed. "If it's ok, I'd rather not bring it up right now." She hoped Rick would understand her need for a drama free night.

"Are you all right?" He asked her concernedly, pulling her closer to him under the bright light.

"I am," it was hard to even remember what had upset her when she was this close to Rick. She breathed in his scent, allowing herself to relax.

"Good," he fingered her kinky curls, "it'd be a shame to dress up so beautiful and have your night ruined."

"It's far from ruined," she assured him, toying with the collar of his shirt. "You look incredible," she complimented, kissing his cheek.

"Just trying to keep up," he gave her rear a circumspect squeeze, the red fabric bunching between his hands. "I love this dress on you."

He dipped her dramatically, drawing a laugh from her. She molded her curves to him as he swung her back up. She had just pressed her lips to his when she heard footsteps approaching.

"Michonne, do you need help in the kitchen?" Cheryl had found her opportunity. Michonne pulled back from Rick. His hands swiftly found a more PG-13 place to rest around her waist.

"I'm all right," she assured her. "Rick and I will handle it."

"Have a seat, Mrs. Jackson," Rick employed the Southern charm again, moving to escort the older woman back to the living room.

"I insist," Cheryl's tone left no room for argument. "One of you should be with your guests," she smiled kindly. Michonne resisted the urge to sigh.

Rick nodded. "Just holler if you ladies need help. I'll come running," he promised. He gave Michonne one last reassuring look before moving out.

Cheryl moved wordlessly to the sink, depositing empty bowls and glasses in.

"Thank you," Michonne wished that she could swallow the nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"He seems nice," Cheryl nodded in lieu of a "you're welcome".

"Rick?" Michonne felt simultaneously thrilled and terrified that she was getting straight to the point.

"He's a police officer?"

"Yes," Michonne nodded, turning on the sink.

"How did you meet?" Cheryl squeezed soap onto a sponge.

Michonne paused, wondering if she had already seen the video. "He's a client of mine," she settled on the abridged version of the truth.

"Does Andre like him?" Cheryl paused in her ministrations to look at Michonne.

"He loves him," Michonne said truthfully. "And Rick loves Andre."

"How do you feel about his son? He seems like a sweet boy."

"He is," Michonne relaxed a fraction. "He's going through some hard things."

"Yes, I know," Cheryl shook her wet hands over the sink. "I must admit, I did my research before coming here tonight. I had to know who was around my grandson so much now. Dre can't stop talking about him, you know."

Michonne swallowed hard. "What did you find?"

"Rick has had some hard knocks. Like you." Cheryl reached for Michonne's hand, her damp thumbs applying pressure to the middle of the palms. It was her trademark move, the one she did when she was about to impart wisdom on you. Michonne felt emotion begin to prick behind her eyes.

"He makes me happy. He makes both of us happy," she said quietly, unable to meet her mother-in-law's eyes.

"I know," Cheryl squeezed harder. "You deserve to be happy, my dear. Mike would not have had it any other way." She lifted Michonne's chin, looking at her hard. "I know it's been a rough couple of years on you. I'm glad to see you're healing."

"Cheryl…" Michonne fumbled on her own words, sniffling.

"I'm ok," her mother-in-law chuckled. "It's hard to lose a son. But we both have Dre."

"He's pretty great," Michonne let out a watery laugh of her own.

"So is your Officer Grimes. You make sure that you two take care of each other," Cheryl instructed.

"I promise," Michonne blinked back her tears. Cheryl released her hands, drawing her in for a hug. The smaller woman held her with surprisingly strong arms.

"Thank you," Michonne whispered again, "thank you so much, Cheryl."

"You know," Cheryl leaned back just a bit. "Just because Mike is gone doesn't mean you had to stop calling me 'mom'."

Michonne squeezed her tightly. "Thanks, mom."

Cheryl smiled, fussing with Michonne's dress as she released her. "Now go entertain your guests," she instructed. "That blonde might be getting into too much wine. Best watch her," she shooed Michonne out of her own kitchen.

"Yes, ma'am," Michonne smiled, her heart feeling lighter.

It was late into the night when her guests finally siphoned from her house, hugging one another and kissing cheeks and promising to call soon. Michonne reserved a tight hug for her mom.

"Merry Christmas," she waved them all safely home, glad that Sasha was the designated driver for Andrea.

"We'll talk later," Andrea slurred at her.

"I'll see you at work," Michonne threw Sasha a look over the car. Her curly-haired friend rolled her eyes.

"Thanks for everything," she steered Andrea into the car and hugged Michonne. "See you soon, Rick," she hugged him in turn. "Merry Christmas."

"The kids are asleep," Rick waved at Hershel and his family departing in their car as Daryl and his bike rumbled away down the road. "You want to tell me what you ladies were talking about?" He put his arm around her shoulder, smiling at her.

"Shane is cheating on Lori," Michonne sighed. "Andrea met him at a bar."

There was a pregnant pause.

"Shit," Rick exhaled. "That's kind of ironic though." He began to laugh.

Michonne joined him, "It's always something." The absurdity of the situation threw her into a giggling fit.

"You think I should tell her?" Rick continued laughing.

"It's probably the right thing to do," Michonne reasoned. Still laughing, she led Rick back into the house.

"It can wait," Rick caught her around the waist. "How'd it go with Cheryl?"

"She likes you," Michonne twisted around to kiss him on the cheek.

"Did you say what you needed to?" Rick, pulled her closer, pressing her back squarely into his chest.

"I did," Michonne brought his hand up to kiss the back, relaxing into him.

"Good," Rick buried his face in her neck. "Any chance I get to see the Rudolph pajamas?" She could feel him smiling against her skin.

"I told you I'm sleeping in them every night," she swatted at him playfully.

"Lucky me," he deadpanned, lifting her feet off the ground.

"The kids are in bed?" she asked.

"Teeth brushed and knocked out," he confirmed.

"Then let's go to bed too," she wanted nothing more than to lay quietly next to him.

"Sounds good," he kissed her, carrying her off to the bedroom.

"I have one last gift for you," she told him, rummaging through her drawers until she found it. He began to laugh as soon as he saw them.

"Now we match," he pulled his Frosty the Snowman pajamas on, grinning from ear to ear. Michonne donned her own sleepwear, snuggling up into him as they laid down.

"Merry Christmas, Rick," she whispered, already dozing off.

"Merry Christmas, beautiful," he kissed the back of her neck, drawing the covers up around them.


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: Here goes Chapter 18! As usual, your support is incredibly appreciated, as is your feedback. Thank you all so much for taking your time to favorite and follow and review!**

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"Remind me again how I got us both roped into this?" Rick killed the ignition of his truck, glancing over at his girlfriend. She was wearing her dark green sweater dress and an amused smile.

"Because your captain asked," she explained patiently. "And after he wrote that amazing letter of recommendation for you…"

"I couldn't say no," Rick finished her sentence, exhaling. "It's my fault for putting that picture of you on my computer. He'd use any excuse to meet you now." Rick rolled his eyes. Setting a desktop photo of himself, Michonne and their sons in front of her Christmas tree seemed innocuous enough until his whole unit had spotted it. The questions came fast and thick after that, especially from his captain, Dale Horvath.

"There's a picture of me on your computer?" Michonne asked, her lips quirking.

"On my desktop," he confirmed, leaning over to kiss her. Her smile delighted him. He wondered vaguely what people at her job knew about him. He knew her coworkers all seemed close and that the blonde one tended to lean towards nosy.

"I'm going to have to stop wearing lipstick," Michonne laughed, wiping gold crème from his face. She rubbed her lips together to refresh the color.

"I could just start wearing it," Rick licked his lips, grinning cheekily at her. Michonne tucked a wayward curl behind his ear.

"This suit," she ran her hand from his face down to his tie, stroking the silk. "I like it." Her dark eyes took him in appreciatively.

"It's not too late to go back to my place and take it off," he half-teased. If she agreed, he'd start the car and floor it home. "We were supposed to spend New Year's on my couch anyway," he attempted to coerce her.

"Oh, I'm still going to get you on that couch," she sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. "It'll just be later tonight than you were expecting." She gave his tie a tug.

"Can we leave before midnight?" he was practically begging now, trying to keep his tone as though he were joking. It wasn't fair, how quickly she could rile him up. It only took a word or one of her heated stares, and he was ready to find the nearest room with a door that locked.

"This is going to be fun," she assured him, running her hands down his chest to his lap.

"I swear, you love to torture me." He held back his groan. This was going to be a long few hours.

"Torture?" she smiled innocently. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Keep teasing," he warned, a slow smirk spreading over his face. "Payback's going to be sweet." She snickered, the sound egging him on. "Are you ready to spend New Year's Eve in a room full of cops?" he asked her, coming around the car to open her door.

"Let's see if it gets as crazy as a room full of lawyers," she challenged, hopping out of his truck. She took his arm readily as he escorted her into the building. Whoever oversaw the party planning this year had far outdone themselves from the previous years. The hotel ballroom was tastefully decorated, bordered on one wall by a table groaning under loads of plates of appetizers and a bar running perpendicular to it on the other side. Dozens of officers and their significant others were already traipsing around in various states of tipsiness. Rick spotted his captain from across the room.

"Let me introduce you," Rick walked them over to where his graying boss was stationed. Rick was glad to see his wife with him; Mrs. Horvath had recently beaten cancer. She looked healthy and lovely hanging onto her husband's elbow. She spotted Rick and Michonne first.

"Rick," she greeted him warmly, releasing her husband to hug him.

"Captain, Mrs. Horvath," he nodded at them both, smiling. "Happy New Year's."

"Happy New Year's, Grimes," Horvath set his plate down to shake Rick's hand. "Who's this with you?"

"This is Michonne Jackson," Rick smiled at his girlfriend. She was grinning at the older couple. "Michonne, this is Captain Dale Horvath and his wife, Irma."

"Pleasure to meet you both," Michonne accepted a hug from Irma and then moved to embrace Dale. He seemed surprised, but took it in stride.

"I've heard nothing but good things," he winked at her. "Grimes can't shut up about you."

Rick felt his cheeks heat up. "He asked," Rick explained. Michonne looked amused.

"I didn't ask you to go on about her for ten minutes," Captain Horvath snorted. "I figured I had to invite you after that. I hope I didn't interrupt any special plans."

"Just a lazy night in," Michonne said kindly.

"Sometimes that's nice though," Irma imparted.

"Oh, don't worry," Michonne glanced sidelong at Rick, "We'll make up for it all day tomorrow."

Rick wasn't fooled by her angelic tone. His mind was already formulating images of what a day spent on the couch with Michonne would look like. He hoped it didn't involve clothing.

"Well, don't let us keep you. It's an open bar. The union came through." Rick's boss gestured to the line forming in front of them. "Go indulge. But don't over indulge," he warned. "Can't have officers driving drunk."

"Course not," Rick grinned, already moving off. "Enjoy the party."

"We'll see you around," Irma waved them away.

"They're a sweet couple," Michonne observed from the line for drinks.

"I wonder if he's the same around her. He never bites his tongue with us." Rick chuckled. Everyone in his precinct had taken a verbal reaming once or twice from Horvath.

"I'm sure he's a sweetheart," Michonne laughed, "Just like you are with me."

"Keep your voice down," he mock shushed her. "You're going to ruin my reputation."

Michonne scoffed. "if anything, I'm putting you on the map. People have been staring since we walked in."

Rick couldn't blame them. It had been two years since he went to the New Year's Eve bash, and the last time he was here, he was accompanied by a waifish brunette. Michonne was quite the change. It felt wonderful to end a shit year on a good note, namely with her by his side.

"It's your ass in that dress," he leaned in close to whisper this in her ear. She slapped at him. "That's assault of an officer," he teased, enjoying her giggle.

"Keep it up, and it'll be more than assault," she pinched him.

They were interrupted by the bartender asking for their drink orders. Michonne got champagne while Rick settled with a beer, both clutching their glasses as they made their way around the room. They were stopped every few feet by Rick's coworkers. Michonne stood through dozens of introductions, smiling widely as if they were all old friends. She was better at this than he was, small talking and schmoozing. He supposed it came with the territory of her career, but there was something about her that people gravitated to. She made an impression without ever raising her voice, laughing at bad jokes as though they truly tickled her. Rick could not help but to compare her to Lori. He always had to lead with Lori, to force the conversation along. His ex-wife could be friendly when the mood struck her, but his work functions had never brought that side out of her.

"What are you looking at?" Michonne asked him, taking advantage of a brief break in conversation to whisper in his ear.

"You," he kept his answer simple, kissing her in the spot on her neck that he knew made her toes curl.

"Good answer," her hand tightened around his own. His precinct was in route back to them, drinks in hand. He calculated that he had just enough time to mess with her before they returned.

"I can't wait to get you out of this dress," he toyed with the hem of the fabric, remembering the first time he had seen her in it. He wasn't sure at all how she would take the comment, but he'd been thinking about peeling this outfit off her since the day they went ice skating.

She didn't blink at all, responding calmly without looking at him, "You might not have time to get it off. Better just push it up and out of the way." Seamlessly, she greeted his coworkers, smiling and accepting a refill of her champagne. Rick stood silently beside her, attempting to recover. His train of thought had just been completely derailed by her quiet suggestion. Rick knew that she was aware of it by the clandestine look she tossed him from the corner of her eye. His coworkers seemed unaware of their banter. Several of his precinct were already engaging his girlfriend in spirited conversation, including his partner. Rick glanced at his watch, realizing in disappointment that there were at least a few hours to go before he could slip away from the party unnoticed. He was likely to melt into a puddle before that happened.

"So, Rick," his new partner, Noah drew his attention. "How did you two meet?"

Rick bit back a laugh. Noah had to be one of the only people in his precinct who had not watched the video. He had confided to Rick that he wanted an unbiased opinion of his partner. Rick had been glad for his integrity, but it made Noah the only one in the room who did not know who Michonne was.

"She's my lawyer," he said simply, taking a draw of his beer.

"I need to get a lawyer," Noah observed appreciatively. Michonne laughed.

"I could introduce you to a few," she smiled at the younger man. He ran a hand nervously through his dense dark curls, his brown skin flushing.

"I'd appreciate it," embarrassed, Noah made an excuse to walk off. Rick watched him amusedly. His partner was almost cripplingly shy on the outside, but he made a fierce adversary when the rubber hit the road. He had an uncanny knack for keeping calm in high stress situations, but it appeared that Michonne had undone him completely. Rick couldn't blame him. He was sneaking peeks at her legs. Even encased in their tights, he was sure the skin was smooth as silk. He was counting down the moments until he could run his hands over them and wrap them around his waist.

"I think he'd get along with Glenn," Michonne interrupted his musings, watching Noah's retreating form. "You weren't lying when you said he was young."

Rick wasn't thinking about Noah at all. "Tell me more about your plans for this dress," he changed the subject completely.

She smirked at him. "We're supposed to be socializing with your coworkers," she pointed out.

"We did that already," Rick drew her under his arm, wondering if he could convince her to leave.

"Patience is a virtue," she warned, kissing him on the cheek.

"It's one I don't have," he was contemplating kissing her when he heard a voice that cooled his libido as effectively as a bucket of ice water.

"Happy New Year's, Grimes," Rick felt his body freeze. Michonne stilled as well, her head craning around.

"Officer Walsh," she greeted evenly.

A series of curse words ran through Rick's mind on a loop. He had just been enjoying himself. It figured that Shane would appear. Rearranging his features to erase the sour look on his face, Rick spun around.

"Happy New Year's, Walsh, Lori," Rick nodded at each of them in turn. Shane was dressed in the same black suit he had worn to Rick's wedding, the only one Rick knew he possessed. Lori's dress was new, a red number that managed to disguise her baby bump. Her hair was swept up, her go-to style for formal occasions.

"Didn't expect to see you here tonight," Shane grinned widely at the two of them. His expression immediately annoyed Rick.

"Horvath invited us," Rick said curtly, glancing over at his girlfriend. Michonne was unshaken by the sudden appearance of Rick's ex-wife. She continued sipping her champagne calmly.

"How are you both?" Michonne asked them evenly, her voice pleasant.

"Ready to get this year over with," Shane's grinned widened, his eyes shuffling to Michonne. "It'll be good to get on with things," his arm draped possessively around Lori. Lori attempted a smile, but seemed distracted. Rick recognized that look in her eyes, almost as though the lights were on but no one was home. Lori's mind was occupied elsewhere.

Michonne smiled at the couple. "How are you, Lori?" she asked kindly. Rick had to marvel at her self-control. He was counting down the seconds until he could be free of this interaction.

"I'm good," the answer was flat, bordering on morose. "The morning sickness is finally gone."

Rick could not recall her having morning sickness with Carl. He wondered what Michonne's pregnancy had been like.

Shane patted Lori on the stomach, looking pleased. "We're going to find out the sex soon," he announced.

"That's nice," Rick was thrilled that Michonne was answering. He could think of nothing polite to say himself.

"How are you two getting along?" Shane asked them interestedly. There was a tone in his voice that Rick recognized well. Shane was about to start some shit.

"We're great," Rick answered forcefully. He wasn't about to divulge more details. Shane was plying them for something he could use against them.

"I figured you'd have Carl tonight, all the fuss you're always making about seeing him," Shane continued.

"He's with his grandparents," it was Lori who answered, looking annoyed. "They only get to see him once a year."

"Still," Shane was undeterred. "I gotta tell you," he directed his next comment at Michonne. "I didn't take you for the partying type. You seem a little uptight," he gave her a once over.

Rick felt his temper flare instantaneously. He opened his mouth to tell him off but Michonne beat him to the punch. "You're right," she said calmly, "My coworker Andrea is much more the party girl. She's always picking up strange men at the bar." She coolly took a sip of champagne, her eyes never leaving Shane's. Rick was treated to the sight of all the color draining out of his face along with that infuriating smirk. "You two met, right?"

"Must've been when we were fighting in the street," Shane lied flawlessly. Rick had to admit he was impressed.

Michonne was nonplussed. "I'm sure she mentioned to me that she's run into you before." Rick was dangerously close to laughing. Michonne had Shane in her crosshairs and she wasn't easing up.

"I wouldn't know her," Shane's answer was calm but his smile had disappeared. Rick barely contained his glee. Lori seemed to glean that something was amiss. She looked at Shane curiously, her face contorted in confusion.

"Hmmm," Michonne made a throaty sound. "I'll have to ask Andrea for the full story then. Perhaps I misheard her."

"You do that," Shane ground out. An incredibly loaded silence stretched between the two couples. Rick contemplated just coming out with the truth, but Michonne's charged statements had clearly gotten the wheels turning in Lori's head. He decided to let Shane self-destruct. His old friend had never needed his help with ruining relationships.

"Don't let us keep you two from having fun," Rick smiled brightly, determined not to let them ruin his night. "Happy New Year," he raised his half-full beer bottle with a nod.

Neither Shane nor Lori said anything. Shane attempted to recover from his faux pass, adjusting his arm around Lori. "Come on, babe," he kissed her. Lori allowed it for a moment, then pulled back, looking irritated. Rick resisted the urge to laugh.

"Take care," he waved after them, delighted that they walked away. He turned to Michonne, pulling her close to him. "You're amazing," he told her in awe, winding his arm around her waist.

"He's so damn smug," Michonne shook her head, betraying her annoyance for the first time. "I couldn't help it."

"You did better than I did," he assured her. "I was just going to come out with it."

Michonne chuckled, polishing off the last of her drink. "I'm pretty sure Lori already suspects him. Let her get there on her own." She stepped closer to Rick, laying her head on his shoulder. "I don't want to talk about Lori and Shane anymore tonight," she whispered in his ear.

Rick was more than all right with that. "What do you want to talk about?" he held in her in place close to him, uncaring that some of his police squad were watching the two of them and snickering. He was going to catch hell later for looking like a love-sick teenager. Rick had never been much for public displays of affection with Lori. He had no reservations about it with Michonne.

"Did you still want to leave early?" she asked him, her fingers worrying at the lapels of his jacket.

"Absolutely," he removed the empty champagne flute from her hand, setting it down on a table.

"Should we say goodbye?" she questioned.

"I'll see them all on Monday," he assured her, steering them through the crowded room. They passed Shane and Lori on their way to the door.

"Leaving so soon?" Shane asked sardonically, his ego apparently recovered.

"Got other plans," Rick smirked at him, not breaking his stride. He opened the door for Michonne, his hand on her lower back, ignoring the other couple's eyes on them.

The moment Rick helped Michonne into his truck, she was on him, pulling his face to hers as she sat sideways in her seat. He leaned into her, bracing his hands on either side of her, leaning out of the cold and into her warmth. Her kisses were almost frantic. She nipped at his lips, her hands tugging at his shoulders. Rick pulled himself against her legs, his hands coming to grip her thighs. It was getting difficult to think logically.

"Let's go to your place," she managed to gasp out as they came up for a breath.

"Yes ma'am," he all but ran around to the driver's seat. "I thought you were going to make me wait all night," he teased her as they sped home.

"I didn't want to spend the night with your ex watching us," Michonne came straight out with the truth. "I'd rather not share you."

Rick rolled to a stop at a red light, immediately leaning over to fuse his lips with hers, the champagne taste making him feel dizzy. A honk from behind him brought him back to his senses. Michonne laughed as he raced down the last few blocks, bringing them to a stop in his apartment complex. He clutched her hand, practically running her between the town houses until he came to his new front door.

The stacks of boxes littered on his floor presented a challenge to navigate around as he pulled Michonne inside. His new place needed work; the furniture was still relatively sparse. He had only taken from his old house what he had before his marriage, wanting a fresh start. Michonne had promised to go shopping with him. It could wait. He steered them to the one piece of furniture in his living room, the couch. Michonne fell backwards onto it and Rick came tumbling down on top of her, his hands forging a frantic path up her legs and to her waist.

"What was it you were saying about your dress?" he asked against her neck. Every breathy gasp she took sent a jolt of pleasure through him. Her hands shoved at his shoulders, pushing his jacket off and over the back of the couch. She yanked at his dress shirt, pulling it out of his waistband before going to work on his pants. She was doing nothing to disguise her need for him.

"Just push it out of the way," her bossy instruction excited him. He kicked off his pants, eager to comply. The fabric of her dress bunched in his hands as he slid it up, gathering it around her waist and exposing her legs to his hungry eyes. Her tights were the next to go. She helped him pulled them off.

"Fucking beautiful," he couldn't help the curse word from slipping out of his mouth. Michonne was sprawled out beneath him, her hair mussed and her lips kiss swollen. He had never seen something so appealing.

"Rick," she murmured his name, her fingers winding around to the back of his neck.

Her hands dragged down to his tie, tugging at it. His self-control was slipping. He took hold of her legs, encouraging her to wrap them around his waist. With one hand still wrapped around his tie, she guided him inside of her. Michonne let out a broken gasp, her hands clinging to his back. Rick was struck by the realization that this new year of his life was beginning in a new home with Michonne clenched around him. Something contracted inside of him. He gripped her legs, moving like a man possessed, urged on by every moan of pleasure that slipped out of her lips. His name fell from her mouth with reverence, like it was the only word she could remember anymore. Rick wanted to holdout, to make it last, to take his time. Both of their bodies had different agendas. White light exploded behind his eyes as Michonne tightened around him, her fingernails digging into his back through the fabric of his shirt. He collapsed on top of her, his chest heaving, unable to speak.

He held Michonne against him, so close that he could feel her heart beating against his own chest.

"Are you all right?" she asked him quietly, her fingers tangling into his curls.

Rick glanced up at her face, taking in her wide dark eyes, down her nose and to her full lips. This was different than anything he'd experienced before. Michonne was nothing like Lori. She didn't require coddling or protecting. She was undeniably feminine without compromising her strength. Just a few weeks in, and she was already his partner, a nigh unshakable force that he had come to rely on.

He sat up, rearranging the pillows of his couch to ensure her comfort before pulling the remnants of his clothing off and helping her tug her dress over his head. Satisfied, he laid back down, rolling them so that she was beside him, her back to the couch, the two of them pressed skin to skin.

"I'm perfect," he assured her, kissing her gently.

"Good," she grinned coyly at him. "Because I believe that I promised you a whole day on this couch."

"No better way to ring in a new year," he told her. "I promise that next year around this time I'll actually have furniture."

She laughed softly. "The couch is just fine with me," she illustrated her point by rolling closer into him, her foot curling around the back of his calf.

"And next year, we'll go somewhere that Shane and Lori aren't," he continued, punctuating his promises with kisses against her soft coppery skin.

"You've got big plans," she observed, smiling as he showered her with affection.

"If you're there for them, yeah," he moved back to her mouth. She moaned against him.

"What other plans, do you have?" she asked curiously.

"Right now?" he moved against her, drawing her legs back around him. "I'll show you."

Her laugh quickly transformed into a whimper of pleasure as he drove back home.

"Fuck," this time it was Michonne who cursed. "We can do this again, next New Year's Eve," she panted.

"Good plan," he rolled them over, silencing her with a deep kiss.


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Thank you so much to all of you who read and especially those who review. I wish I had the time right now to personally respond to you all. For now, I hope my updates will suffice! Here is chapter 19...**

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Tired. It was the simplest way to explain how Michonne felt this week. Plain and simply tired. The holidays were over, and with them seemingly disappeared all the goodwill between couples all over Atlanta. She had nearly a dozen cases waiting for her attention.

Unfortunately, today she also had a cold. It had started off slowly, just the general feeling of exhaustion. Gradually it grew, a runny nose one morning, a headache the next, and finally the full lineup. Fever, sinus pressure, fatigue, they were just the tip of the iceberg. She had no idea how she was going to make it through the day, let alone drive herself home tonight. Currently, she was sequestered in her office, clutching a box of tissue in one hand and a mug of tea in the other. It had gone cold, the ceramic feeling impossibly heavy in her clenched fist. She could barely lift it.

"Michonne," Sasha poked her head into the office, shielded by the door. "You need to go home," she instructed, taking one look at Michonne slumped over at her desk.

"I'm fine," Michonne hoped that her voice didn't really sound that deep. Today, the whole world seemed like it was underwater.

"You're not fine," Sasha eased in, one hand over her mouth as though she could shield herself from the germs.

"I have so much work…" Michonne felt dizzy just talking about it.

"And it's going to have to wait," Sasha said firmly. "Have you seen yourself? You look like you're melting."

Michonne took offense. Sure, she hadn't been able to summon the strength to do anything with her hair that morning, and she was wearing a pants suit two sizes too big and three seasons old, and maybe her makeup had started to run, but she'd made an effort before leaving the house.

"Is she going home?" Glenn's voice joined the fray, echoing just behind the door.

"She's not going to go willingly," Sasha cut her eyes at Michonne. "Break out the big guns."

"I'm calling him," Glenn announced, his feet moving off.

"Guys, I'm fine," Michonne attempted to stand up but nearly collapsed in her chair.

"Call him," Sasha's eyes didn't miss her moment of weakness. She turned around to call after Glenn. "Tell him to stop at the pharmacy first."

"Sasha, who are you calling?" it hurt just to talk.

"The only one who can knock some sense into you," Sasha softened her tone.

"He said he's coming," Glenn appeared again, peering cautiously in through the doorway.

"You didn't call Rick," Michonne groaned.

"We did," Sasha confirmed. "And Cheryl. Someone needs to watch Dre."

"Sasha…" Michonne could not muster the words to protest properly. Rick had been just as busy as she was lately. The last two weeks they had scarcely been able to see one another; their last encounter ended with the two of them falling sleep side by side, writing reports for work.

"Stop protesting," Glenn said kindly. "Rick's on his way. He's going to take care of you."

"And your mother-in-law will take care of Dre," Sasha added. "You need to get better."

"I'm just going to get Rick sick…" Michonne sighed.

"Then you get him sick. He's your boyfriend. It's his job," Glenn smirked. "I'd do it for Maggie."

"See?" Sasha shrugged her shoulders as though this settled the whole argument. "You're going to let your boyfriend come and pick you up, and then you're going to take your infected ass home." Her eyes crinkled from behind her hand, still shielding her mouth. Michonne nearly laughed.

"Fine," she gave in at last, too tired to put up any more of a fight.

"I'll get someone to disinfect everything before you come back," Glenn backed out into the hallway, shadowed by Sasha.

"Thank you," Michonne managed to murmur as they retreated.

"You're welcome," Sasha let her hand down at last, revealing her smile. "Feel better."

"I'll try," Michonne promised. It felt more likely that she would die at this point. Her friends were right; she needed to rest.

"Did you convince her?" Andrea walked into her office. Glenn voiced the affirmative from the hallway. Andrea looked pleased with the answer. "You work too hard," she admonished Michonne gently. "When's the last time you took a break?"

Flashes of her first morning in bed with Rick came to Michonne, drawing a smile from her, despite her discomfort.

"Not just that morning you played hooky after your date," Andrea rolled her eyes knowingly.

"Moms don't get breaks," Michonne croaked out, resting her head against the back of her desk chair.

"Apparently not," Andrea sat across from her in Rick's usual chair, seemingly unconcerned with Michonne being contagious. "How many cases do you have?"

"11," Michonne nodded at a stack of paper on her desk.

"Between the three of us, we'll handle it," Andrea reached for stack. "Take the week."

"I don't need a week," she protested.

"You do." Andrea was already standing, papers in hand. "You take care of everyone, from the people in this office to complete strangers." Andrea smiled fondly at her. "You've been doing it since college. I'm forcing you to take a week. I don't want to hear any excuses."

"Yes ma'am," a wave of affection for her friend washed over Michonne. "I could hug you right now."

"Please don't," Andrea chuckled. "Get well."

"Thank you," Michonne closed her eyes as her friend and boss left her office. Her head felt like it weighed 100 pounds, her eyelids as though sandbags hung off each one. She attempted to take a deep breath, but her nose impeded her. Her mouth fell open, gasping for air, cursing her condition. Microorganisms were completely calling the shots in her body. She hated it.

"Hey beautiful." Michonne was so concerned with blowing her nose that she failed to hear Rick's footsteps as he came in her door. He was in his full uniform, clutching a drugstore bag in one fist.

"You didn't have to come," she attempted to smile at him.

Rick chuckled, moving towards her. He extended his arm, pressing the back of his hand to her forehead. "You're hotter than you usually are," he winked at her. "I got to get you in bed," he began to gather her belongings.

"You always get me in bed," she joked, her laugh turning into a cough.

Rick grinned at her. "Glad to see you're well enough to crack jokes. Glenn made it sound like you were dying."

"I think I might be," she admitted. Now that he was here, she had to admit how awful she felt.

"I got you," Rick clutched her gently beneath her arm, hefting her slowly to her feet. "How do you feel?" he asked, moving them towards the door.

"Shaky," she was leaning on him harder than she wanted to.

"So, you're shaky, and a fever," he catalogued her symptoms, "Runny nose?"

"Yes," she nodded.

"Headache?"

"A little bit."

"Stomach pains?"

"Thank God, no," blessedly, her digestive system seemed fine.

"Good," Rick thumbed the button to the elevator. "You won't need the antacids then."

"You bought antacids?" she asked as they descended. Rick had her firmly under one arm, her purse and laptop tucked under the other with the pharmacy bag.

"I got a little bit of everything," he kissed her forehead. "I wasn't sure what you needed."

"You're the sweetest," Michonne wished she could kiss him. "You didn't need to do all of this," she continued as he guided them to his car.

He opened the passenger side door and lifted her in, securing her with the seatbelt. "It's my pleasure," he assured her, putting her belongings in the back seat. "Besides," he continued, climbing into the driver's seat and starting the ignition. "Even sick, I'd rather be hanging out with you than at work."

Michonne snorted, her chest contracting as she attempted to laugh. Rick reached over to smooth her hair back, making sure the heat was on her full blast.

"What's your favorite kind of soup?" he asked her as he drove. "Chicken noodle?"

"Tomato," Michonne shook her head gently.

"Even when you're sick?" he sounded surprised.

"Always," she smiled.

"All right then. Tomato it is. We're going to your house, you're going to get in bed, drink some water, take some pills, and when you wake up, we're going to have tomato soup." He glanced over at her smiling.

"You're my favorite adult person," Michonne was already drifting off to the motion of his warm truck, soothed just by his presence.

He chuckled, reaching for her hand. She pulled away, but he snagged it anyway.

"You're going to get sick," she warned.

Rick rolled his eyes. "I'll risk it." He linked his fingers with hers across the seats. "It might get me out of work," he winked at her.

As soon as he pulled up to her driveway, he ushered her out of the car and straight to her bedroom.

"Where are your Rudolph pajamas?" he questioned, sifting through her drawers.

"With the Christmas things," she laughed softly, already smashed into her pillows.

He gasped mockingly. "I was going to wear my Frosty ones all year."

"Well, I haven't needed pajamas so much lately," she pointed out. When Rick was sleeping over, neither of them found clothing essential in bed. He was over most nights during the workweek, blaming his lack of furniture. Michonne did not mind. The last few days had been odd without him. Andre had grown accustomed to Rick's presence, going so far as to look disappointed at the mornings when Rick was not to be found at the kitchen table. She wondered if her son was all right at his grandmother's house. She should call him.

"You can call him in a few," Rick told her once she voiced her concerns. "He's still at daycare. Take a nap first." He set an oversized t-shirt and boxers in front of her. She recognized them as a pair he had left over a few nights before. She'd washed them with the intention of returning them to him.

"Are you just trying to get me in your clothes?" she asked lightly.

"Yup," Rick kissed her on the forehead again, already helping her out of her work clothes and into the well-worn and soft cotton. It still smelled a bit like him, even through the scent of her detergent. "Now go to sleep. When you wake up, I'll make you soup and you can call Dre."

"What are you going to do?" she asked him, drifting off beneath the covers.

"I'm heading to the store. I'll be back soon," he assured her. "Sleep," he flicked the lights off on his way out of her room, leaving the door open. "Holler if you need anything."

"I will," Michonne could feel her body relaxing. She shut her eyes, her strength finally spent.

When she woke up, it was late in the afternoon and her house was quiet. She felt a moment of panic, temporarily forgetting her situation, wondering where her son was. Her ears picked up on the sounds of Rick moving around in her living room. She sat up blearily, her head spinning. Beside her on the bedside table was a full glass of water and some aspirin. She seized them both thankfully, swallowing them down.

"Rick?" she called quietly for him, unable to get her vocal chords to function at full capacity.

He appeared holding a huge bowl of tomato soup and a mug of steaming tea. "I thought I heard you get up," he set them down beside her on the table, reaching for her forehead again. "Feel any better?"

"A little," that was the honest answer.

"I'll call Dre," he was already reaching for her phone, thumbing through for Cheryl's number.

"Momma?" Andre greeted her brightly from the other line. Rick had disappeared back into the kitchen, leaving her to talk to her son.

"Are you with grandma?" she asked, trying not to sound as sick as she felt.

"We're doing puzzles," Dre confirmed. "Grandma says you're sick."

"I am," she nodded out of habit, "I don't want to get you sick. I will see you in a day or two, ok?"

"Ok." Dre did not seem overly worried. "Is Officer Rick with you?"

"He is," she confirmed.

"Tell him to make you feel better," Dre instructed.

"He's working on it," Michonne had to laugh.

"I love you, momma," her son's little voice echoed in her ears long after she hung up.

"Dre's good?" Rick returned with a second bowl and a stack of DVDs.

"Doing puzzles with his grandma," she informed him, sitting up a bit so she could sip her tea.

"Then it's just you and me," Rick joined her on the bed atop the blankets, still unconcerned with germs. He pulled the covers up around her legs. "We're going to eat soup and watch _Lord of the Rings_. Maybe I'll find out why you love it so much." He grinned at her, handing her a bowl.

Michonne stared back at him, unable to process her gratitude. A pressure was building behind her eyes that had nothing to do with her cold. "Rick," she choked out his name.

He reached for her hand again, smoothing his calloused thumb across her palm. "I've got you," he told her simply.

Michonne used her other hand to wipe tears away, scrambling for a Kleenex to blow her nose. Rick handed her the box.

"I have news for you," Rick told her. She appreciated his attempt to distract her from crying. She had never met a person more apt at expressing themselves without saying anything than Rick. She smiled wetly at him, wiping her face.

"Is it good news?" she asked, calming herself.

"Might be," he shrugged. "I called Lori while you were asleep."

"And?" this was no surprise. Rick had been trying to talk sense into her about the baby for weeks.

"She wants to talk. Might be we can come to a compromise. Take some work off your plate," he leaned back, smiling at her.

"You and Carl aren't work," she told him, hoping he knew that.

"But court's no fun. Maybe I can convince her…" Rick took a slurp of soup.

"And if you can't?" Michonne blew on her own spoon, cooling the liquid.

"Then I'm pushing for custody," he said, swallowing.

"When do you guys meet?" Michonne sipped at her soup, the warm liquid providing instant relief as it slid down her throat.

"Later this week. She wants to talk face to face," Rick made an expression akin to eating sour fruit.

"Are you worried?" she asked.

"More just expecting the worst," he exhaled, going in for another gulp of soup. "This is really good," he complimented. "Tomato might be my new favorite thing."

Michonne smiled at him. "Told you it's good. And it's all going to be fine, one way or the other. If we need to go to court, I'll make sure it goes quickly."

Rick smirked at her. "Wonder Woman over here."

"Wonder Woman doesn't catch colds," Michonne snorted.

"Mine does," he looked at her fondly. Michonne's heart skipped a beat.

"Well, when Superman's around to bring soup, it's not so bad," she felt silly talking about her feelings in terms of superheroes, but she couldn't formulate her emotions into romantic enough words to tell him otherwise.

He didn't seem to mind, his grin widening. "Movie time?" he asked her.

"Time to educate you," she teased, turning her eyes to the television. She still felt awful, but with Rick there, the sickness was tolerable. He watched her favorite movie with her, asking pithy questions at first and cracking jokes, before he eventually silenced, completely engrossed. Periodically, he would turn to her, ensuring that she was drinking water or tea. She sunk into the warmth of her bed, cosseted beside him.

Michonne fell asleep somewhere during the council of Elrond, despite all her efforts to stay up with Rick. She awoke in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. The television was off, the bowls and cups were cleared away, her mug was refilled and Rick was still beside her, sleeping at the far end of her bed. Her head was throbbing, she could barely breath and her skin felt like it was on fire. Her clothing was soaked all the way through, clinging to her skin.

"Rick," Michonne barely recognized her own voice. Talking took an incredible effort. "Rick," she repeated, attempting to roll over towards him. Rick stirred, stretching out. She extended her arm further, her fingers just brushing his collar.

He woke up with a start, rolling over to her. "Hey, beautiful," he yawned. Michonne felt dizzy. She tried to move closer to him, but only could roll an inch feebly. Rick at last realized something was wrong. "Are you ok?" he sat up quickly, reaching for her. The moment his hand touched her skin, he recoiled. "Oh shit," he was up, shoving his feet into his boots at the foot of her bed. "You're burning up," there was panic rising in his tone.

"I feel terrible," it was all she could muster. Rick wrapped the blankets around her tightly and picked her up, bedding and all. She tucked her face into his chest, trying to will away the pounding in her head. She was back in the truck before she knew it, falling asleep and waking up indiscriminately as they traveled. She could tell that they were going faster than normal. She wanted to ask where he was taking her, but couldn't seem to speak. Her chest burned.

Bright, sterile light brought her back to her senses. She could just make out a stark red sign, proclaiming the room she was in to be the ER.

"Hang on," Rick's voice was gentle. He sat her down in a chair, still tangled in her blanket. "I'll be right back." She watched him through hooded eyes as he ran to the desk, speaking urgently with a man in lime green scrubs.

"Miss Jackson?" Rick was back with the man, both were bending over to look at her. "We're going to take you straight back now. Can you breathe?"

Michonne wheezed. "Kind of." The two short words hurt her lungs.

"Ok," he turned back to Rick, his voice level and calm. "Do you mind lifting her into the chair? We need to get her in with a doctor."

"What do you think is wrong?" Rick's voice was forceful from above her head. She was being moved again, deposited into a wheelchair. Michonne felt the tendrils of panic.

"I can't be sure," the lime green nurse was still relaxed. "But the doctor will see her first. We'll fix her up, officer."

Michonne glanced up at Rick, realizing that he was still wearing his uniform. He was pushing her speedily along the hallways. "Don't leave," she managed to tell him.

"I'm right here," he reached forward to grab her hand, squeezing reassuringly.

The next hour was a blur of stethoscopes and IV bags, beeping monitors and the antiseptic smell of disinfectant. Rick sat beside her, smiling whenever she met his eyes. Michonne was tired, but complied with all the young redheaded doctor's requests, opening her mouth to be inspected, inside and out.

"Pneumonia," the doctor proclaimed at long last. "Looks like you've had it for a while. How long have you been feeling sick?"

"Just this week," Michonne adjusted her arm, nudging the IV bag closer to her. She felt sore and worked over.

"Why didn't you tell me you were feeling sick?" Rick asked her, relief almost palpable in his tone.

"I just thought it was a cold," she defended herself.

"Don't keep it a secret next time," the doctor instructed. "That fever could have done some serious damage. You're lucky he was there to take care of you." The doctor took her temperature again. "The fever has gone down. We've given you some antibacterials and we'll send you home with a prescription for more. We're going to need to hold you here overnight, just to make sure the fever has broken."

"Will you stay?" Michonne directed her question at Rick. She was exhausted, a little confused and scared.

"Of course," the worry was still etched on his face, but Rick managed another smile anyway.

"You two should try and sleep. It's a few hours until morning. The next doctor on shift will see you then." The doctor smiled at the two of them.

"Thank you," Rick exhaled, shaking his hand. The moment the door closed, he was back by Michonne's side. "You scared the hell out of me," he told her.

"I'm sorry," it was a little easier to talk now, but her chest still hurt. She reached for him.

"Don't be," Rick sat down in the bed beside her, pressed flush to her side. "You have to tell me when you aren't feeling ok. Glenn said that you begged them not to call me earlier."

"I didn't want you to worry," Michonne felt like crying. She was completely spent.

"It's my privilege to worry about you," Rick laid down, his arms wrapping around her. She rolled closer to him, pressing her face into his shoulder, silently crying. He rubbed her back. "You don't have to do everything by yourself," he whispered into the top of her head. Michonne clung to him.

"Thank you," it was humbling to be so weak. Her body had completely given out today. She shuddered to think what would have happened if Rick had not been there.

"You're the only person I know who doesn't notice when they have pneumonia," Rick chuckled against her. "You scared me so bad." He pulled her tighter to him.

"I scared myself," she admitted. She was thinking of Dre, of the last time she had spent the night in the hospital. She hadn't been allowed in the operating room, but stayed in the waiting room, feeling more numb with every passing moment. That fear she had felt as Mike slipped away, she had made Rick feel some semblance of that today. She wasn't sure how she would repay him. Rick did not respond, only brought the blankets up around them.

"Go to sleep," he murmured soothingly.

"You should get some antibacterials too, so you don't get sick." He'd been much too close to her . She couldn't stand the thought of rushing him to the hospital.

"I promise that I will," Rick's accent rumbled against her ears, soothing the last remnants of panic out of her. "If you promise not to hide things from me. Even colds."

Michonne summoned enough strength to look up at him. His cobalt eyes met hers.

"I promise," she said. She hoped he knew she meant it.

"Good," the little wrinkle between his eyebrow smoothed out. He licked his lips nervously, looking like he wanted to say more.

"You're my favorite," she repeated, her eyes closing against her will.

"You're my favorite, too." She fell asleep to Rick's gentle breathing and the beeping of the monitors.


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: This has been a great week for updates! Your reviews and predictions keep me motivated. Thank you so much for all of your wonderful and honest feedback. Here's Chapter 20...**

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"Rick," he nearly didn't recognize Lori's voice the first time she called out to him. The coffee shop was crowded despite the lateness of the morning. He peeled off his leather jacket, already sweating in the proximity of caffeine aficionados. The air was heavy and perfumed with the scent of over-priced lattes and other hard to pronounce beverages. Rick avoided these places almost on principle. He hoped that this conversation went quickly.

"Morning," he located her at last, sequestered in a corner near the window. He wanted to ask why a pregnant woman had chosen to meet at a coffee shop, but then noticed she was sipping hot chocolate out of a glass mug. Rick didn't much care for the idea of drinking out of ceramics that thousands of adolescent hipsters had slobbered all over. He clutched his carboard to go-cup, ignoring the curious looks of the people around him as he pushed by.

"You made it," Lori sounded almost relieved. She was still bundled in her sweater, her bump now protruding into the table in front of her. She seemed suddenly and undeniably pregnant.

"I told you I'd come," Rick took the seat across from her, squeezing into the miniscule space between his chair and the chair at the table behind them.

"You're a man of your word," Lori took a nervous sip from her mug, her eyes flickering around the café.

"What did you want to talk about?" he asked her, eager to get a move on. He pushed the sleeves of his dark brown shirt up to the elbow. The heat in here was unpleasant.

"How are you?" she asked in response, her gaze landing on him at last.

"I'm well," he reluctantly engaged in the pleasantries. "How are you feeling?"

She licked her lips, her thin, curved brows jumping. "I've had better weeks."

"What happened?" Rick took a sip of his own black coffee, inwardly resigning to never spend $3 on a cup of joe this bad ever again.

"Shane's cheating on me," Lori exhaled the statement in one breath. "But I'm guessing you know that."

"I had my suspicions," he admitted, drumming his fingers on the table. "Did he tell you?" It felt odd to be sitting her talking about this. He wanted to cut to the chase.

"He said it didn't mean anything," she sighed again, her eyes downcast. "Asked me to forgive him."

"That sounds like Shane," Rick was having trouble being sympathetic. Lori had often heard his tales of Shane and his many conquests over the years. He didn't know what she had been expecting.

"I know that I should be trying to make it work, for the baby," Lori set her mug down. "The thing is, I've been doing a lot of thinking."

"Ok," Rick regarded her curiously. She was jumpy this morning.

"It's about the baby really. I've decided," Lori swallowed hard. "I've decided that I want the baby to be yours."

"Well, it might be," Rick set his cup down, confused. She was making no sense.

"No," Lori shook her head, her hair falling forward over her face. She brushed it back quickly. "I mean, that no matter who the father is, I want the baby to be yours."

Rick's face screwed up in confusion. "Lori, what are you—"

"I want you back," it came out in one huge breath, as though the whole phrase was one word.

"What?" Rick nearly dropped his carboard cup.

"I made a mistake with Shane, and you tried to tell me but I wouldn't listen." She was talking down to the table and not him, her words rushing out as though she'd rehearsed them. "You were so good, always, even when we were having problems, and I don't know…I just—" she broke off, her head lifting just slightly.

"Lori," Rick shook his head, trying to clear his mind. "You can't just ask for me back because Shane cheated on you."

"That's not why," she insisted, her palms coming up to lay flat on the table. "I've been unhappy for a while. The baby made me pause, but…"

"You were unhappy when we were together too," Rick pointed out, his patience wearing thin.

"Not like this," she seemed on the brink of tears. "It's all I can think about. I keep going through it in my head, the reasons I thought this whole thing was a good idea. They don't make sense anymore."

"When did you decide all this?" Rick asked her. His mind was spinning. He'd expected a fight this morning, not whatever this was.

"I've known for a long time. Then you showed up to Carl's concert with your lawyer—"

"Michonne," he corrected.

"Right. With Michonne," Lori paused. "And I just realized, I was so wrong."

Rick was not going to refute her. He sat silently, processing. Lori continued. "I realized that I promised you, in front of everyone, in front of God and a church and everybody…that I would love you 'til death. For better or for worse. You did too."

Rick took a deep breath, searching for a way to phrase his thoughts. "I guess we both made a promise we couldn't keep then," he said slowly.

Lori wiped her eyes on the back of her sleeve. "We could. We could try again."

Rick took her appearance in, from her tear-stained eyes to her long chestnut tresses, to her slight frame. She looked much the same as she had in the hallways of their own high school. He had been smitten almost at first sight, had discussed the possibility of asking her out often with Shane. The first few years of their courtship had been the stuff of romance novels. He'd married his high school sweetheart, they'd bought a house with a fence. They had Carl. Life had been good.

"Lori, we don't need to be together," Rick began. That life was in the past. "Even without Shane, we weren't living the way a husband and wife ought to." Rick vividly remembered the fights, the slurs thrown at one another almost indiscriminately. He remembered Carl's face after he'd caught them squabbling, the morose way his son had slid into his shell.

"We could try," Lori repeated, the tears spilling over.

"I have Michonne now," Rick reminded her.

Lori laughed wetly. "You've only been dating for what, a month and a half? It can't be all that serious."

Rick shook his head, leaning away from her and back into his chair. "It is serious." He was a serious about Michonne as he had ever been about anything in his life. Maybe his attraction to her had dawned on him slower than it had with Lori, but it was solid. Lori had been the storybook kind of relationship, the kind a good Southern boy from King's county was supposed to have. Michonne was unexpected. She was different.

"Rick," Lori was gearing up to argue. Rick cut her off.

"I love her," he said pointblank. "I didn't expect it to happen, and I sure as hell didn't go looking for it. But that's it, really. I love her." He'd wanted Michonne to be the first person to hear this profession. He'd almost told her that night at the hospital. It'd been terrifying to see his normally strong girlfriend reduced to that, feverish and tiny and utterly exhausted. He couldn't recall a time he'd been so scared, not even when he'd been shot.

"You loved me once too. And for longer," Lori protested, the tears falling down her cheeks.

"I did," that was easy to acknowledge, even now. "And part of me will always love you. You gave me Carl." He smiled slightly at the thought of their son, "But I don't love Michonne the way I loved you. It's different."

"But for Carl, it would be better for Carl," Lori played her last card.

"Carl will be fine. He loves us both and he always will. He's going to be happier without us fighting all of the time." Rick left out the part about how Carl felt about Michonne. There was no need to rub salt in Lori's wounds.

"And if the baby is yours?" she sobbed out quietly.

"Then I'll love it too," he shrugged. "And I'll always be around. But we're not going to be together Lori. We're parents. We'll stay parents." He hoped she was taking his point.

"How can you love her, so soon?" she asked, her eyes digging into his.

Rick could think of a million reasons, but none that he would ever be able to convey to his ex-wife. "Sometimes you just know," he shrugged again, tracing patterns on the table in front of him with his finger. If he was being honest with himself, he known it since the moment he kissed her on the couch. It had all happened fast, but it was real.

"Are you going to marry her?" Lori sounded like Carl with her childlike questions.

"One day maybe," Rick considered. "If she'll have me." He prayed she would.

Lori sat across from him, staring out of the window, tears cutting down her cheeks. Rick felt a pang of guilt for what he needed to say next.

"I want Carl to come live with me," he said quietly. "He's already talked to me about it. I think it's for the best. You can see him anytime that you want to, but with all of this with Shane, and the baby…It'll be easier for Carl with me." Rick watched her for a reaction. Lori scrunched her eyes shut, her first up to her mouth. "You have to figure this out Lori. Take some time to figure out what you want."

"I want Carl with me," she spoke at last, her voice firm.

"Maybe he can be one day, but not when you're like this. Do you really want him to see you go through this?" Rick asked, raising his palm to gesture at her.

"Go through what?" she asked coldly, her tears dry now.

"Putting yourself back together," Rick told her. "I had time to do it. Now let me give you the time. Let me have Carl. Once the baby is born, we can revisit the topic. He'll stay at the same school. He can see you every day if you want to."

"No," she shook her head. "He belongs with me."

"Lori…you're being unreasonable." It was the wrong thing to say. Lori's eyes flashed in anger.

"We'll see what the judge thinks," she said matter-of-factly.

"Do you really want to go through that again?" Rick was exasperated.

"You and your girlfriend are going to have to fight for him." Lori leaned forward. "You aren't going to take my son."

"I'm not trying to take him," Rick was dangerously close to raising his voice. "I just want him to spend the nights with me."

"Then, I'll see you in court," Rick was struck by how much Lori sounded like he did a few months back.

"Don't do this to Carl because you're mad at me," he cautioned. "Don't put our son through another custody battle."

Lori paused, her eyes narrowing. "I'll see you in court," she repeated slowly.

"And the baby?" Rick asked. "Are we going to have to go through court to find out whose baby it is too?" Shane had rubbed off on her in the worst of ways. She was more stubborn now, vindictive.

"Maybe I'll never tell either of you," she said, folding her arms over the baby bump.

Rick rolled his eyes. "You're being ridiculous."

"I'm not the one in love with a woman I just met," she fired back.

"No. Just a man who cheats on you." Rick stood up, his unfinished coffee still on the table between them. "I hope you change your mind. For Carl." He pulled his jacket off the back of his chair. There was nothing more he could say.

"How'd it go?" the text glowed up from his phone as Rick re-entered his truck. He connected the bluetooth and dialed the number.

"She wants me back," he said in lieu of greeting.

"Of course, she does," Daryl sounded completely unsurprised.

"I don't want her." Rick sighed.

"Of course, you don't," Daryl sounded almost as though he was chewing. "You've got Michonne."

"I love her," Rick announced for the second time that day.

"You'd be an idiot not to." Daryl swallowed, the phone scraping around as though he was in motion on the other side of the line. "You probably should tell her. Did you tell her?"

"Not yet," Rick admitted, steering up the streets.

"What are you waiting for?" his friend scoffed.

"Mostly for her to not have pneumonia." Rick had to chuckle to himself. "Plus, it feels like it's too soon. Isn't it too soon?"

"Who the hell made up all of these rules about 'too soon'?" Daryl sounded disgusted. "You feel something, you say something. Simple as that."

Rick considered this. "All right then," he agreed.

"Let me know how it goes," with that statement, Daryl disconnected.

Rick weighed his options for a moment before turning onto the freeway, aiming for Michonne's house. His girlfriend was still at home sick. He found her just where he had left her, bundled up on the couch, conversing quietly with Glenn. The young man was taking notes on his laptop, typing furiously.

"Are you working?" Rick let himself into the house, walking into the living room. Michonne smiled up at him.

"Hey, handsome," she avoided his question. She looked more awake today. Most of his girlfriend's week had been spent in bed, diligently following his instructions. She made a compliant patient, taking her medicine and drinking the teas and waters he brought her without complaint.

"I tried to stop her," Glenn looked over at Rick, sounding resigned. "She insisted. You know how she gets."

"I was going crazy in bed by myself," Michonne said by way of excuse, reaching for him over the couch. He was glad to hear that her voice was returning, her coughs fewer and further in between.

"You could have just called me," Rick teased, holding her hand.

"Ok guys," Glenn glanced up from his work with an eye roll, "I'm right here. I can hear you."

"Maybe you'll pick up some tips for Maggie," Michonne shot right back, a mischievous smile dancing across her face.

"We're doing just fine," Glenn retorted, matching her grin. "I'm going to see her right after this."

"Don't let us keep you," Rick desperately wanted Glenn gone. He liked the energetic young man a lot, but he needed some time alone with Michonne.

"We're almost done," she said to him, her fingers squeezing his.

"I'll be out of your hair soon," Glenn assured them both. "And you two can get back to whatever you get up to in here," he made a disgusted face. Michonne laughed.

"I think we're good Glenn," she swatted at him. "Have the client call me if they have any questions."

"Will do," Glenn closed his laptop, "I'll leave you guys to it, then." He glanced skeptically at the pair of them.

"We do occasionally do things besides have sex," Michonne stuck her tongue out at Glenn.

"Yeah," Rick agreed. "Sometimes we shower," his smile widened suggestively.

"Gross," Glenn was up off the couch. "I'm out of here." He smiled despite his lamentations. "I'm glad you're feeling better," he seized his backpack, looking fondly at Michonne. "You scared us all at the office."

"I'll be back before you know it," she grinned back at him.

"Thanks for keeping her company," Rick told Glenn as he walked him to the door. Michonne was still on the couch, relegated to resting.

The younger man smiled at him. "No problem. She's happier now, you know?"

"What do you mean?" Rick furrowed his brow.

"She's always been strong. But this is the first time in a long time that she's been happy." Glenn smiled back in Michonne's direction. "I have a feeling that you're a big reason why."

"Yeah, well," Rick felt himself blush, "she makes me happy too."

"Good," Glenn let a silence stretch between them. His eyes were watching Rick's face expectantly. Rick felt himself growing nervous under his unflinching stare.

"How's it going with Maggie?" Rick felt compelled to ask. He'd neglected the young couple lately, so consumed was he with his own drama. Glenn hadn't complained at all when Rick had asked him to take turns watching over Michonne. He may have been one of the most selfless people Rick had ever met. He felt bad that he hadn't asked Glenn about his life lately.

"We're great," Glenn smiled. "You should go by and see her and her family. They all miss you."

"I'll do that," Rick assured him. He missed the Greenes too.

"Good," Glenn nodded again. "Take care of our girl," he instructed as he parted. Rick waved goodbye.

"Is Glenn on the road?" Michonne asked when her reemerged in the living room. Her voice was heavy with sleep.

"He is," Rick confirmed, coming to sit on the couch behind her. She leaned into him, her back pressing against his chest. He enfolded her in his arms without a thought.

"How did it go?" she asked quietly, her fingers toying with the rolled fabric of his sleeves.

"I think I made it worse," he admitted, pressing his face into the curls on top of her head.

"How so?"

Rick took a deep breath. "She told me that she wanted me back. I told her I wanted custody of Carl."

Michonne's head turned around, her eyes searching his face. "She wants you back?"

"You don't sound surprised," he observed.

"I figured it would happen at some point. You don't see how she looks at you when you're with me." Michonne sighed. He could feel her body begin to tense up.

"That's because I'm always looking at you," it was part pickup line, part truth, but it had its intended effect. Michonne relaxed just slightly, her head coming to rest on his shoulder.

"The judge set a court date, you know." Her voice was still low and a little bit raspy.

"Yeah?" he rubbed her back, attempting to find a way to organically work what he had to say into their conversation.

"It's on Valentine's Day," she chuckled wryly.

"Sounds romantic. Another holiday with my ex." He resisted rolling his eyes. "She knows Shane's cheating."

"And?"

"And she's angry. Maybe at both of us. Jealous of you for sure. Threatening not to reveal who the father is."

Michonne sighed. "I guess it's going to be an eventful Valentine's Day."

"We can do something that day before, or after, if you want to." Rick was as sick of Lori raining on their parade as Michonne was. His girlfriend took all the complications without complaint. Rick felt guilty.

"Afterwards is fine," she was beginning to drift off to sleep, her body still healing.

"I'll make it up to you," he promised her.

"What did Lori say, when she asked for you back?" Michonne questioned quietly.

"That she made a mistake with Shane. She said a bunch of other things, but it doesn't matter," Rick pulled her closer to him, needing to alleviate some of the stress.

"Why is that?" Michonne asked, her voice calm and measured.

"Because I don't love her." Rick paused, shifting her in his arms so that he could look at her face. "I love you."

The pronouncement hung in the air between them for a moment.

"Really?" Michonne questioned, her eyes wide.

"Really." He waited, letting her absorb his confession.

"Rick," he felt a pang of panic at her quiet voice and the way she could not quite bring herself to meet his eyes.

"You don't have to say it back," he moved quickly to reassure her.

She silenced him with a hand to his mouth, the back of her fingers grazing his lips. In one fluid motion, she pressed her lips to the palm of her hand. Rick gripped her tightly, holding her against him. She released his mouth, tucking her head in the crook of his neck. Her fingers were digging into his arms with surprising strength.

"I love you too," Michonne's soft admission set his heart racing. Unable to speak, he ran his hands along her body, tracing over the warm skin. Her breathing picked up. "I want to kiss you so badly, right now," she sighed, frustrated.

He pressed his face to hers, feathering his lips down the side of her neck. "I took the medicine. You could kiss me." He desperately craved the contact after days of being deprived of it. Sleeping next to Michonne without being able to touch her had been a unique kind of torture. It was difficult for him to watch her be in discomfort and not be able to alleviate it.

"I can't risk it," she exhaled against him, pressing her forehead against his.

"You should risk it," Rick moved his lips up to hers, barely brushing against her, attempting to convince her. She pulled back.

"Rick, you're going to put me in the hospital again. We both know we can't stop at one kiss," she scolded, still clinging to him.

"Good point," he conceded. His self-control around her was still tenuous at best. He never knew that kissing could serve as foreplay before he started kissing Michonne regularly. 'It's all right," he brushed her hair back, taking in her face. "I love you, even when you're too sick to kiss."

She laughed, her body trembling with her giggles. "I won't always be sick," she grinned at him.

"That's good to know," he leaned against the arm rest of the couch, pulling her back into a lying position with him.

"And you won't always have to deal with Lori," Michonne added, looking up at him from her place laying on his chest. "We'll find a way to win quickly. Carl will be with you before you know it." She traced her fingers along the buttons on his shirt.

Rick sighed. "Do you think she'll ever be civil?"

"I don't know," Michonne shrugged against him. "I hope so."

"I'm sick of her trying to ruin our happiness," he admitted. "She doesn't know what she wants. But she doesn't want us together." He scoffed.

"Maybe she'll come around. Maybe she won't." Michonne sat up slightly, looking him square in the eyes. "Either way, I'm with you."

Rick seized the back of her head, bringing her face quickly to his to steal a kiss. He kept it chaste, despite his desire for her. She smirked at him.

"Cheater," she accused without venom.

"It was worth it," he said without pause.

"Do you want to strategize for court?" she asked, settling back down on top of him.

"You worked enough for today," he went back to rubbing circles into her back, closing his eyes. "Maybe we take a nap first."

Michonne snuggled into him, yawning. "I love you," she whispered into his chest.

Rick smiled. "Love you too, beautiful."


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: A thousand times thank you to all of you who take the time out of your day to read and review and favorite. Here comes 21...**

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There were days when Carl Grimes regretted asking to live with his dad. Today was one such occasion. His mom was in one of her moods from the moment he sat down at the kitchen table. It was clear she had been crying; her eyes were puffy and red around the edges. Carl had learned long ago not to bring it up. He greeted her as if nothing was amiss. She managed to muster a smile at him.

"Can I get you breakfast?" she asked, her voice cracking.

"I'll just have cereal," he smiled brightly at her, already retrieving the step stool. She used to make eggs in the morning, or oatmeal. Sometimes his dad would help, adding brown sugar to the concoction before his mom could turn around and see, winking at Carl behind her back. Carl missed that.

"Did you do your homework?" she asked distractedly.

"Yes," he could have answered anything and she would have believed him. It'd been months since he solicited his mother for help with his schoolwork.

"Shane is going to come over later, baby. So you may have to go to school early. Do you want a ride?" she stood up, folding her robe over the baby bump that was so prominent now. Carl wondered about the baby, whether he would have a brother or sister. Would it look like him? Would it be part of the family or the start of a whole new one? He wanted the baby to be his dad's that way he would have a partner in all of this. When he was at Michonne's house, it was fun to have Dre around. Dre thought he was the coolest kid on Earth. He was always following Carl around, trying to copy him. Carl didn't mind it at all. He'd always wanted a brother.

"I'll walk," he told his mom. Walking meant he could leave the house earlier, before she started crying again. He scarfed down his cereal in silence, rinsing his bowl before beating a hasty retreat to his bedroom. His shirts were all wrinkled from being balled in his drawer. He shook one out, hanging it up while he took a very hot shower. He'd seen his dad do this before, when he was running late or too lazy to iron. It worked reasonably well. There was still some evidence of deep creases, but nothing he was too embarrassed about.

"I'll see you later mom," Carl kissed her goodbye, his backpack already bouncing behind him.

"Be home on time. Your dad is coming to get you." She stroked his face, smiling sadly.

Carl already knew his father was coming. He counted down the minutes in between his visits. "Tell Shane I say hello." He patted her on the belly, hoping the baby inside could feel it. "Love you."

Shane was walking up the pathway as Carl left the house. There was a time when Carl used to be excited to see his curly dark hair coming towards the door. Now he just felt uneasy. His dad still hadn't told him, but Carl knew that Shane had stolen his mom. Sometimes Carl wanted to ask her about it. Shane was funny, but so was his dad. Maybe it was because Shane was bigger than his dad was, even though his dad seemed to be gaining more muscle lately. Maybe Shane was more handsome, but ladies looked at his dad when they walked around too, and they always smiled. Maybe his mom liked how loud Shane could be. Even when they used to fight, his dad never raised his voice. Carl wondered if his mom fought with Shane.

"Hey kid," Shane smiled at him.

"Hi Shane," Carl nodded in his direction, hurrying down the sidewalk.

"Do you need a ride?" Shane called after him. Carl knew Shane wanted him to stop. He kept walking.

"No thanks!" he called back, making sure to smile. "I think mom is waiting for you!"

It was a cold day, but it helped to be walking so fast. A kid from his school was just up the way. Carl didn't know his name; he was in a grade above him. Everyone at school knew that his dad was the kind of guy who hit when he got mad though. Once, Carl's dad had tried to step in, offering to help the kid's mom out. She said she didn't need it. Carl still did not understand her answer.

"Hey," the older boy greeted, his breath frosting in front of him. Carl fell into step beside him.

"Hey," Carl echoed, glad for the company.

"How come I don't see your dad around anymore?" the kid asked as they walked.

"He lives somewhere else now," Carl did not feel like explaining.

"Do you still see him?" he asked.

"All of the time," Carl nodded emphatically. His dad would never leave him.

"I wish my dad would move somewhere else," the older kid lamented. "Maybe my mom could get with your dad," he said hopefully.

Carl was skeptical. His mom was a pretty lady with yellow hair, but Carl would never want her around him that much. "My dad already has a girlfriend."

"That was fast," the kid observed.

"I guess," sometimes Carl wondered the same thing. He didn't think whatever was going on between his Dad and Michonne was the same thing that had happened between his mom and Shane. Michonne and his dad seemed like best friends, even now that they were dating. Shane and his mom didn't seem to talk much, but he couldn't be sure. Shane was never over anymore when Carl was there.

"Do you like her? Your dad's girlfriend?" the older kid brought Carl's attention back to himself.

"I like her a lot," they crossed the street. Carl wondered if he would be seeing Michonne tonight. He had a report due; he bet Michonne would be good at helping with homework. Maybe afterwards she'd let him and Andre watch a movie.

"What's she like?" he asked.

"She's really nice. Kind of serious, but funny at the same time." Carl paused at the school gate.

"Sounds cool," the older kid nodded at him.

"She is," Carl smiled at him, clutching his backpack straps.

"I'll see you around," his walking partner was already moving off towards his classroom.

"I'll see you," Carl waved him off.

The school day went slowly, the way it always dragged on Fridays. Carl watched the clock, counting down the moments. When the bell finally rang, he ran outside, determined to get home as quickly as possible and get ready to go to his dad's house. He pretty much stayed packed all week, but there was a comic book he'd found in the school library, and he wanted to put it in his bag to show Dre. He zipped his jacket up against the cold, preparing to make the trek home.

"Carl!" it took a few calls before he heard his dad. Smiling, he spun around, catching sight of his dad leaning against his truck. He ran towards him.

"Dad!" he caught him around the knees, squeezing hard.

"Are you ready for the weekend?" his dad asked, hugging him back.

"Yes!" he went hurtling for the truck, excited to see him so soon.

"I got your stuff from the house," his dad told him, "Michonne's going to be at my place, if that's all right."

"With Dre?" he seized his hat from the back seat, fitting it over his head. His dad had given him this hat when they left King's County for Atlanta. Carl remembered being scared to move, terrified to start school in a new place. His dad had given him his old sheriff's hat and told him he was scared too. Atlanta hadn't turned out to be so bad, except for the part where his parents split up, and the part where his dad got shot.

"Dre will be there," his dad laughed. It was nice to hear his dad laughing again.

"Do you think we'll all live together one day?" Carl asked him.

"You and me?" His dad looked over at him as he drove.

"And Michonne. And Dre." Carl fidgeted with the car radio.

"Do you want that?" his dad asked. His dad never answered a question without asking Carl one first.

"Do you?" Carl hoped his dad did. They all had fun together. He didn't want Michonne and Dre to go anywhere.

"I do," his dad paused for a moment before nodding. "Maybe it will take a while though," he smiled at Carl. Carl smiled back.

"I can wait," Carl said, adjusting his hat. "Do you think mom will be ok...without us?"

His dad stopped at a light and looked at him hard. Carl felt his cheeks begin to flush. "Do you worry about your mom?" his dad asked him. Carl nodded. His eyes were beginning to water. "I do too, son." His dad sighed. "Mom needs time to figure some things out."

"Do you think she needs help?" Carl couldn't seem to bring himself to look over.

"Maybe, but she's not ready for it yet." His dad continued driving.

"Do you think Shane will help her?" Carl used to like Shane, back when he had helped them out when his dad was in the hospital. Maybe he could do that for his mom again.

"Maybe," his dad didn't look like he believed it.

"Will you help her, if you need to?" Carl licked his lips. It was a lot to ask, and he knew it, but he couldn't leave his mom alone.

"I will," his dad said, glancing at him. "No matter what happens."

"Even if you marry Michonne?" Carl's mom had tried to replace his dad and it was all working out horribly. Even though Carl liked Michonne, he hoped his dad wouldn't totally forget his mom.

"Even then. She gave me you, kid. I could never forget her. And Michonne wouldn't want me to." His dad stopped the truck in front of his new house.

"Good," Carl felt himself smile.

His dad smiled back. "Go inside and say hello," he instructed.

Carl hopped out of the truck, happy to comply.

 ** _A few hours earlier across town..._**

Michonne's morning had been a blur of research. She poured over dozens of cases, strategizing for Rick's upcoming court date. She wanted to go in completely compared. Enough had become enough. Lori was not going to play fair and so now the ball passed to Michonne. She would ensure that the process was short and as painless as possible for the man and his son who were becoming like family to her. There were examples of this case across the United States, each as messy and drawn out as the one before it. From Anna Nicole Smith to a couple in New Mexico, paternity cases had been causing headaches for decades. This one was no exception. Michonne's head was spinning.

It was just before lunchtime when she heard the commotion in the lobby. She'd been buried in her work, consumed with catching up after a week of bedrest. It felt good to be back at the office, but there was much to do. Three days in and she was just beginning to catch her breath. She had just started to consider the possibility of taking a break when the sound of angry voices reached her ears.

"Miss Jackson can't see you today, but if you want to make an appointment, I'd be happy to set one up for you."

Glenn so rarely raised his voice that his loud tones drew Michonne's attention almost instantaneously. She paused in her work, coming to the door to peek out.

"It's important that we talk," a rough, southern accent was pleading its case.

"Let me just set an appointment," Glenn began again, his voice firm.

"Just tell her I'm here. She'll come see me," the man sounded sure. Michonne placed his voice at last. She opened her door, heading down the hall.

"You can't just barge in," Glenn sounded irritated. "There are rules."

"Look, just go get her." Michonne emerged from the hallway, popping into the lobby in time to see Officer Shane Walsh leaning across the desk, arguing with Glenn. The younger man was not backing down, his arms crossed over his chest.

"If you don't want to make an appointment, I can't help you," Glenn shrugged.

Shane opened his mouth to retort, but Michonne made her presence known, effectively silencing him.

"Officer Walsh," she called out to him, her hands moving to her hips. "What's the occasion for this visit?" She nodded at Glenn from across the room. He raised his eyebrows but retreated just the slightest.

"I was telling your assistant here that I need to talk to you," Shane scowled at Glenn. Glenn glared right back.

"He's a paralegal. What's more, he's correct. You need to make an appointment." Michonne walked towards the pair.

"It's important," Shane repeated.

"I'm sure that it is. But if it concerns this law office, it requires an appointment." Michonne paused in front of the desk.

"Like I told you," Glenn reiterated. Michonne resisted smiling. Glenn did not take kindly to being disrespected.

Her coworkers were beginning to emerge from their offices, Sasha first followed by Andrea. They both looked ready for a fight.

"If it's a legal matter, you can feel free to make an appointment with one of my associates," Michonne offered, gesturing to the women behind him.

"It's got to be you," Shane ignored the women walking into the lobby.

"Shane Walsh," Andrea announced his name amusedly, a wry smile twisting her lips.

"Hey," he nodded in her direction. Sasha narrowed her eyes but Andrea laughed.

"Is there something we can help you with?" she asked calmly, undeterred by his rudeness.

"I already told him he needs an appointment," Glenn pointed out.

"I just need to talk to this one over here," Shane said, referring to Michonne.

"Have you seen our hourly rate?" Andrea asked, thinly veiling her hostility beneath a smile.

"It's personal," Shane told her, unaffected.

"That may be a conflict of interest," Michonne told him. She had no reason to involve herself in a conversation with her boyfriend's former friend.

"Look, can we drop the act?" Shane asked irritated, shoving his hands into pockets. "I've got something to say."

"Then say it in front of all of us," Sasha instructed, stepping up beside Michonne. Glenn moved closer to her as well. Shane stared back at the four of them, refusing to budge.

"Let's talk," Michonne acquiesced. "I have ten minutes." She was curious as to what he possibly could have to tell her.

"That's all I need," Shane followed her off down the hall, tossing a look over his shoulder. Michonne could hear her coworkers discussing what had just transpired in low voices. "We need to talk about Carl," the door to her office had not even shut before Shane announced this.

"I am not discussing a client's son with you, Officer Walsh." Michonne stood behind her desk.

"Yeah, well, Rick ain't exactly just a client anymore, is he?" Shane dropped down into Rick's customary chair. "You've got more of a stake in this than just professional."

"I don't see what there is to discuss," Michonne took a seat, crossing her legs at the ankle.

"I tried to come by a few days back. They said you were out," Shane stretched in his chair. "Me and Lori had a bit of a spat last week. Things got a little messy."

"That tends to happen with infidelity," Michonne commented. She kept Lori's conversation with Rick to herself. She would not betray any information that Shane was not already privy to.

Shane snorted as if the whole thing was inconsequential. "She's been stressed lately. She's going through a lot of changes. I had a moment of weakness. It won't happen again."

Michonne was sure that it would never happen with Andrea again, but as for with other women, that remained to be seen. "What does this have to do with Carl?" she asked.

"Everything." Shane leaned forward, clasping his hands together in front of him. "Lori's a damn good mom. You've only seen her since all hell broke loose, but I've known that woman a lot longer than that. She's kept it together through some serious shit, kept herself and Carl afloat. I gotta figure, that's something that a strong woman like you could understand. It ain't easy, being a single mom."

"Rick woke up," Michonne's level of sympathy for Lori did not run that deep, nor did she appreciate the comparison between the two of them.

"He did. Didn't change all the shit that had already gone down between them," Shane shrugged.

"What is your point, Officer Walsh?" Michonne's irritation was growing.

"My point is, she's a good woman in a bad situation. And you running around here, threatening to take her son, that's just making it worse." His tone was almost flippant.

"No one is threatening anything," Michonne said firmly. She would give him no legal standing in court.

"Fine," Shane acquiesced. "Maybe it's not a threat, but you've got Lori all scared she's going to lose the one person that's important to her. She needs some time to adjust to this new situation. If you take Carl, it'll kill her."

"No one is taking Carl," Michonne reiterated. "The only thing we have discussed is a change in the custody situation."

"Look, I'm going to level with you," Shane leaned forward. "You've got a little guy. Obviously, something happened to his dad. That was a hard time, right? Maybe you weren't quite yourself. Maybe you were sad, or angry." Shane paused looking hard at her. Michonne's heart began to pound, anger filling her up. "What if someone came along to take your kid away then? How would you feel?"

Michonne kept her mouth shut, biting back her angry words. "You don't know what you are talking about," she said slowly. She could feel her pulse pounding in her ears.

"I think I do," Shane leaned back confidently. "You may think you know Rick, but that man was like my brother. He ain't as perfect as he pretends to be." He raised his eyebrows. "I ain't saying that Lori is perfect neither. But you are getting all shacked up with Rick, and me and Lori are planning on getting married. So, we're going to be around each other a lot. Maybe you can find it in your heart to cut her a break. From one tough woman to another."

"Is that all?" Michonne asked him, resisting the urge to throw him bodily from the room.

"That's it," he let his hands drop over his knees. Michonne disliked the sight of him in his uniform immensely. It sat differently on Shane than it did with Rick.

"Let me walk you out," she wasted no time in getting up and opening the door. Shane trailed her again. Michonne took steady steps, focusing on keeping her breathing even. Sasha, Andrea and Glenn were still all in the lobby, looking expectantly at her.

"Ya'll have a good day," Shane waved at them all before boarding the elevator. "I hope you think about what I said," he called back to Michonne. She raised her eyebrows in answer.

"What the fuck was that?" the doors had barely slid shut when Sasha blurted out her question.

"He was making a plea for his lady love," Michonne ground her teeth.

"Funny," Andrea snorted. "He didn't bring her up when he was kissing all over me."

"Well, he's very concerned now. He was all too eager to spill their wedding plans." Michonne leaned against the lobby desk.

"He's a piece of work," Sasha made a face. "Rick should have hit him harder when they were fighting out there." She gestured out of the window.

Michonne was not inclined to disagree. "Thank you for trying to cut him off, Glenn."

"I just wish it had worked. That guy's an ass," Glenn cut his eyes at the elevator. "Are you all right?"

"I think I'm going to take lunch early," Michonne sighed. Shane's appearance had derailed her productivity. She glanced down at her watch, wondering whether Rick had time to meet this afternoon.

"Go," Andrea instructed, already moving off, her face scrunched up in concentration. "We're going to have to get security downstairs," she murmured. "Too many people just walk in here like they own the place."

Sasha laughed. "Not a bad idea. I can talk to Abe. He might know someone from his military days."

"Want me to walk you to your car?" Glenn asked Michonne.

"I'm fine," she smiled at him. She needed some time alone with her thoughts.

Anger burned through her as she gathered her belongings and piled into her car. She knew it was not below Shane Walsh to be manipulative, but the sheer gall he had astounded her. She replayed the incident over and over in her mind. The worst of it was, he had been reasonably effective in his attack. Michonne did feel guilty. She had her own fair share of bad times, and times when her emotions may have blinded her in her duties as a mother. If Cheryl had wanted to take Dre, she could have made a compelling argument for it.

She was questioning herself, questioning her motives. Was her desire to be rid of Lori clouding her judgement? She called Rick, dialing in his number from memory, praying that he picked up.

"Hey, beautiful," the sound of his voice made her breathe a sigh of relief.

"Can we meet for lunch?" she asked outright. "Just for an hour?"

"Sure," Michonne could hear him conversing lowly with Noah. "Where did you want to meet?"

"Can we go to your house?" she sat quietly, waiting for his answer.

"I'll have Noah drop me off." He agreed without asking questions. Michonne smiled to herself. Whatever Shane said, she would never be convinced that Rick was anything less than perfect.

Just the sight of his face when he opened his front door a few minutes later had a calming effect. He looked surprised to see her so soon.

"Are you ok?" Rick pulled his front door open, instantly reading her mood. She stepped into his house, kicking off her heels as she came in. Rick shut the door behind her, dogging her footsteps into his kitchen. Michonne's adrenaline was still up. She needed to talk, but could not seem to process her thoughts. Rick stilled her with a hand to her arm. She turned around, her decision made.

She closed the scant distance between them, drawing his face towards hers and kissing him with all the fervor left inside of her. He reacted with surprise, falling back a step or two until his back hit the wall behind him. It was perfect for Michonne's purposes. Without breaking their kiss, her hands danced their way down to his belt, toying with the heavy leather and buckle until she released it. He made no move to stop her as she pulled his uniform out of his waistband and shoved his pants down.

"Michonne," her name left his lips questioningly again as she pushed the fabric over his narrow waist, following it down as it pooled at his feet. His questions died, transforming into a broken gasp at the first touch of her mouth. His whole body jolted into hers, his hand coming to the back of her head almost instinctively. "Shit…" the syllable dragged out into a hiss, his muscles tightening like a bow. Michonne kept her hands around his waist, leveraging herself. It had been a week and a half since she had been with Rick and it showed.

Michonne glanced up at him, her pride spiking at the sight of his face. His expression was one of unadulterated pleasure, his head thrown back against the wall, his breathing shallow. He groaned her name out again, his eyes opening just enough to look down at her. She met his gaze, releasing him long enough to smile at him.

"Jesus," Rick exhaled, his chest still heaving. "What's gotten into you?"

"Nothing yet," she stood up with another smile, running her hands over his abdomen beneath his shirt. Rick responded eagerly, pulling her against him, his hands cupping her through her dress. All the anger seemed to dissipate out of her as Rick deepened their kiss. She tugged at him, encouraging him to follow her to his bedroom. He came willingly, his fingers fidgeting with the zipper of her dress. It fell from her shoulders in one movement and she went to work on the rest of his clothing.

She sat backwards on the bed, scooting up and away from him, enjoying the ways his eyes darkened as they followed her.

"You're in a mood," the southern accent sent a thrill through her, making her skin prickle in anticipation.

"I missed you," she whispered, backing up into him as he joined her on the mattress.

"I missed you too," his lips found the back of her neck, his hard body flush against her backside. "I'm glad you're feeling better." He rolled his hips, drawing a ragged moan from somewhere deep within her.

"Much better now," she gasped and leaned forward into his bedding, bracing herself with a fistful of sheets as he began to move against her. She bounced back against him as best as she could, determined to do for Rick what he was always so eager to do for her.

He cursed above her, his hands digging against her skin. Michonne's senses were overwhelmed with him, his smell, the warmth of his body, his tight grip on her waist, his deep voice panting out her name. The sensations reminded her that Rick was wholly hers, no matter what had transpired in the past, no matter how Lori and Shane attempted to come between them.

"Rick," she called out to him as he sped up the pace, desperately trying to keep her composure. She pressed her face farther into the bed, hanging on for dear life. Tears came to her eyes as her whole body began to tingle.

Rick bent over her, his chest pressing firmly into her back, his hand coming up over her head to link with hers.

"God, I love you," he pushed his head against the side of her face, his lips teasing her skin. She fell apart around him at his breathy admission, unable to contain her scream of pleasure. Rick did not slow down, but pulled her up into his arms, one hand wrapped around her waist to hold her up, the other still firmly holding her hand against her chest. Michonne slumped against him, her energy nearly spent. He pressed kisses into her neck, his body clenching up behind her.

"Holy shit," he went slack all at once, falling forward into her, trapping her body beneath his. She let out an exhausted giggle, enjoying the sounds of him panting. "I wasn't expecting all that," he chuckled, rolling over onto his side. "We have to have lunch more often."

She turned over to face him. "I really needed to see you," she sighed out her explanation, still catching her breath.

"Obviously," his laughter continued. He reached for her. "Long morning?" his hand rubbed patterns into her back.

She nodded, swallowing thickly, loathe to shatter their blissful moment. "Shane came to see me."

"He what?" she'd expected Rick's anger but it still startled her. In one moment, he shed his post-coital laziness and bolted upright. "He came to your office? Today?"

She stilled him with a hand to his chest, pushing him backwards firmly. Rick reluctantly laid back down beside her. "He asked me to cut Lori some slack," Michonne sighed.

Rick cursed audibly, his expression almost murderous. "He's got a lot of fucking nerve."

"For a moment, he made me feel bad," she admitted. "He was talking about how great of a mother Lori is, about how I should understand her situation."

"I'm going to kill him," Rick made a move to get up again. Michonne caught him around the arm.

"Rick," she attempted to soothe him, "He's not worth the effort."

"He needs to quit this," Rick was practically growling. "Between him and Lori, I swear they're on a mission to mess with us."

"They just might be," the thought had occurred to Michonne as well. "Shane claims they're getting married."

Rick shook his head. "I thought Lori had more sense than that."

Michonne chuckled. "She cheated on you. Forgive me if I don't have much faith her in decision making process." Rick let out a snort of laughter. Encouraged, she continued. "I don't want their drama to affect us. I didn't come here to get you upset," she stroked his hair. "I came here because after an extremely crappy morning, I wanted some time with the man I love."

Rick exhaled, his curly hair falling forward over his face. His hand tightened around her waist, rubbing small circles into the skin with his thumb. "We've got to figure out how to beat them in court. I can't take much more of this."

"We will," she rolled closer to him, curling her body into his. Rick pulled her against him, tucking his chin into her hair. "I've been working on it all morning."

"Let me know how I can help," he relaxed back into the mattress. She craned her neck up to kiss him, coaxing another deep sigh from him. "It's going to be hard to go back to work now," he told her. "I haven't had a lunch this good in years." Michonne laughed against him.

"Maybe we should eat," she suggested. "And clean ourselves up."

"I'm pretty sure that I'm out of time," Rick glanced at his watch. Reluctantly, Michonne released him, standing up to collect her clothing. "I think my pants are in the kitchen," Rick set off after them, grinning. Michonne took a moment to straighten herself up in the bathroom, emerging just in time for Rick to zip her dress up.

"I'm sorry I took your lunch break," she turned around, smoothing his hair back.

"Don't be," he dropped a kiss on her lips. "I'll have Noah run through a drive thru."

"Tell him hello for me," Michonne adjusted her hem, following Rick out of the bedroom and back into his living room. His place had furniture now, the results of a quick shopping trip. There was still work to be done. It didn't seem like it was his yet, not entirely. She looked forward to helping him fill the space with the memories and trinkets that differentiated a house from a home.

"Spend the night, tonight," he turned to her as they both stepped outside. "You and Dre. Carl will be over."

Michonne smiled. She had yet to sleep over at Rick's house. "All right. I'll fill you in on what I researched."

He kissed her again as Noah pulled up in the cruiser. "Don't work too hard," he told her, helping her into her car.

"I'll see you tonight." Michonne drove back to the office, feeling considerably better than she did leaving it.


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: May I just say that your reviews and comments are my favorite part of writing this. You guys crack me up with your insights. I wish I could talk to you all individually. Thank you so much for all of your support.**

 **We're almost to the end (but not quite). Without further ado...Here's Chapter 22**

* * *

"What is it that you're looking for?" Maggie glanced over at Rick from her place just up the aisle.

"Not sure," he admitted. "I'm hoping I know it when I see it."

"Kind of soon," she dusted her fingers over the merchandise as she meandered back towards him, "to be looking for gifts like these."

Rick paused, setting down the box he had just been inspecting. "It's not that big of a thing," he assured her, returning to his task.

"It is though," Maggie's voice was insistent. "This is a very big thing, Rick." She gestured to the crate that he was lifting into the bright orange shopping cart. "This is a commitment."

Rick chuckled. "That's the point, Maggie." He started off down the aisle, Maggie trailing after him.

"I think it's a good thing. But I wouldn't be much of a friend if I didn't ask you if you're ready for it." She continued.

"It's furniture," he reiterated.

"It's more than furniture, and we both know it." Maggie folded her arms beneath her breasts, her eyes narrowing. Rick was struck by a memory of her from just a few years back. She'd been a skinny teenager, all legs and elbows and odd angles and opinions. Hershel had been worried, unsure how she would turn out. It was obvious now that all his concerns had been unwarranted.

"This is what I want," he assured her, pausing again. He leaned over the top of the bunk bed box, looking at the young woman beside him.

"I know it's what you want," she licked her lips nervously. "But are you ready for it? A gift like that is going to leave an impression."

"That's what I'm hoping for," he sighed. There was a lot on his list today and he was anxious to get to it.

"Rick, you just got divorced," Maggie looked apprehensive to continue her point, but valiantly plunged ahead with it. "Michonne isn't the kind of woman you take half-measures with."

"I'm aware of that," her attempts to lecture him amused him. "I love her."

"You've told her that?" Maggie reacted in surprise.

"I did. And she said it back, to answer your next question." He smirked as Maggie shut her mouth.

"How do you know?" she asked quietly, her eyes suddenly darting back to the shelves of home improvement materials.

"How do I know what?" Rick furrowed his brow. He still needed to make it across the store and then back home to set it all up.

"How do you know that you're in love?" Maggie worried her lower lip between her teeth. Rick glanced at her curiously.

"Do you think you love Glenn?" he responded with a question of his own. The flush that instantly crawled up her neck and cheeks gave him all the answer he needed. "Have you told him?"

She shook her head emphatically. "I'm working up to it."

"Valentine's Day ain't a bad time to do it," Rick emphasized.

"I don't want him to think that I'm just saying it because I have some girlish fantasy," it was clear that Maggie had been worrying about this for some time.

"I don't think Glenn's the type of man to think that," Rick drummed his fingers along the shopping cart handle.

"I don't want to scare him off either," she sighed. "How did you tell Michonne?"

"We were sitting on the couch and I just told her," Rick omitted some key details.

"Just like that?" Maggie seemed impressed.

"Just like that," Rick smiled. "Not everything has to be so monumental. Sometimes it's best to just say it when you feel it."' Rick would have to thank Daryl later for that advice.

Maggie paused, lost in thought. "That idea's not half-bad," she conceded.

"This isn't my first time being in love," Rick chuckled. He continued their quest through the store.

"Is it different every time?" Maggie asked, assisting him with selecting bedding.

"I've only been in love twice," he admitted. "But they're already very different."

"If they're so different, how do you know it's love?" she took a brief interlude to brandish two different lamps. Rick pointed to the one on the left. She set it in the crowded cart.

"I started loving Michonne before I even realized it was happening," Rick picked over dressers, searching for one that matched his bedframe. "It was little things at first, but they add up to big things." Maggie started at him, obviously hoping for more of an explanation. Rick indulged her. "She's a great mother, that was the first thing. She's selfless, she's smart, Carl loves her," he ticked the reasons off in his head, wishing that he was more eloquent. "She's got a great ass," he added with a smirk.

Maggie laughed, shaking her head. "Shameless," she scolded.

Rick shrugged, unabashed. "Like I said, it's little things. In some cases, it's the big, round, wrapped in tight dresses things." He dodged Maggie's slap, laughing.

"Is this one of the little things you're doing to show her you love her?" Maggie asked them in the checkout line. The items cycled by in front of them, beeping rhythmically as the cashier rang them up.

"This is a big thing," he watched the price rising with every passing item.

"I think she's going to love it," Maggie helped him pack the last box into the back of his trunk.

"It's our first Valentine's Day. I want to make an impression," he grinned at her in the low light of the late afternoon. "Thanks for helping me out." He flipped the gate up on the truck bed.

"Good luck with all of this," she nodded at his packed vehicle.

"Tell Glenn how you feel," Rick suggested.

Maggie pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. "I haven't ever felt this way about a guy like him," she professed. "Or a guy, ever."

"A nice, smart boy that your daddy approves of?" Rick couldn't' resist the urge to tease. "You think your reputation will recover?"

She rolled her eyes, already walking away. "Have a Happy Valentine's Day tomorrow," she called back to him, heading for her car.

"Happy Valentine's Day to you too," he waved. He considered telling her about the court date for a moment, but reconsidered. The Greene's had enough to be worrying about without that added stress. Hershel knew, and that was enough.

Daryl was waiting for him when he pulled up to his driveway, leaning on his bike and glancing stoically out into the middle distance. From up the block, Rick could see a gaggle of his female neighbors gawking down the road.

"Can't help showing off," Rick said by way of greeting, smirking at his friend.

"It's the bike," Daryl didn't even turn his head towards the women. "Did you buy up the whole damn store?" he snorted, already reaching for one of many boxes.

"Felt like it," Rick scooped a few of his purchases into his arms.

It took the better part of three hours and a six-pack of Heineken before they managed to get the whole thing set up. Carl's bedroom consumed much of the time and inspired some colorful phrases from both men. Rick had sore fingers by the time they were done, and a healthier buzz than he anticipated, but the work was finished.

"She'll like it," Daryl dumped their empty bottles into the recycle bin beneath the sink. "The whole place looks better now."

"You think so?" Rick didn't know the first thing about interior decorating.

"Looks like adults live here," Daryl nodded. "You've got rugs and shit."

Rick laughed. "I never bought a rug before. Got all of that stuff for my wedding."

"Well, maybe you'll get different shit for your next wedding," Daryl filled up a glass from the sink, chugging down water.

"That's a while off," Rick told him, reaching for a glass for himself.

"Sure it is," Daryl drained his cup. "Court date is tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Rick took a long draw. The water was refreshing after so much manual labor.

"You nervous?" Daryl deposited his glass into the empty basin.

"Little bit," Rick exhaled heavily. "There's a lot on the line."

"You girl has got it," Daryl smirked. "I wouldn't stress it."

"I'll try not to," Rick stretched his muscles. He needed a shower. Daryl seized his sunglasses off the counter. Rick's eyes were drawn to the label. "Ray-Bans?" he was surprised.

"Got a new job," Daryl smirked, pushing the shades over the bridge of his nose. "Security guard pays a lot more than shoveling shit. Thought I'd treat myself."

Rick shook his hand, grinning. "They look good."

"I know they do." A lazy grin spread across his face, "Maybe I'll become a cop, wear 'em out on patrol."

Rick laughed. "If you can cut it," he teased.

"No chance. Too many assholes where you work." Daryl seized his keys. "Have a good night. Tell Michonne I say what's up."

"I'll let you know how it goes," Rick walked him to the door.

Two hours, one shower and a car ride later found Rick seated next to Michonne in a darkened movie theater, their children in the row in front of them. Cartoon animals were frolicking their way through seemingly never-ending hijinks onscreen, to the amusement of both of their sons. Michonne was contently munching from a box of Raisinettes, her head resting on his shoulder.

"This movie is terrible," he whispered into her ear. She began to convulse with quiet laughter. "We have to be the only couple in this whole damn building watching a kid's movie."

"It was nice to get the matinee price though," Michonne deadpanned, "beat the crowds." Her lips quirked up as she took a sip of her iced tea.

A high-pitched squealing began to emit from the speakers. Rick supposed the cacophony was supposed to pass for a song. "I'm pretty sure I know why the crowds skipped this one," he screwed his face up in disgust. Michonne nuzzled him beneath his chin, her lips dusting over a day's worth of scruff.

"The company makes it tolerable," she shook her head while the films stars, a rabbit and a pig, engaged in a burping contest. The punchline inevitably ended in a fart joke, causing the dozens of little voices around them to erupt in laughter.

Rick snitched a chocolate from his girlfriend. "Would it be wrong to ask you to make out in a kid's movie?" he teased.

"Careful," she licked some of the sweet treat from her lips. "You keep talking like that and I'll send you to see that creepy, stalker sex movie."

He snorted quietly, aware of their audience. "Maybe I'll pick up some tips. It's getting hard to keep up with you."

"With me?" she turned her head away from the film, looking at him incredulously. "You wake me up in the middle of the night."

Rick smirked. He'd learned early on in their dalliance that Michonne could go from deeply asleep to incredibly alert with a few well-placed wet kisses. "You call me during my lunch breaks," he fired back. He was still daydreaming about her afternoon visit to his house.

"If you prefer, I could just let you eat," she cocked a brow, her expression suggesting that she knew exactly what that afternoon had done to him.

"I'm on a diet anyway," he punctuated his statement by stealing another piece of candy. It was nice to watch her smile, her mind not focusing on tomorrow's events. Michonne had been in warrior mode lately, pouring over documents and caselaw until even Rick was tired.

"That's what I thought," her hand squeezed his knee, the fingernails sending chills up his body.

"Don't start something you can't finish," he warned. It didn't take much for her to get him worked up. He normally didn't mind, but a kids' movie was not the place.

Michonne laughed, reaching for his hand instead. "I'm going to have to stop touching you in public," she offered him some of her drink. He traded her his popcorn.

"Don't do that," he kissed her gently, lifting the armrest between them so he could wrap his arm over her shoulder. She leaned into him, sighing contently. "You're spending the night tonight, right?" he asked her quietly. "Dre can bunk with Carl."

"Are you sure?" she looked at him, the light from the screen making patterns on her face. "Tomorrow's a big day."

"That's why I want you guys with me tonight. Please?" Rick caught her lips against his again. Michonne sighed.

"I should review the case one more time," she protested.

"You've gone over it hundreds of times," he implored, "Stay with me and the kids tonight."

She pursed her lips, weighing her options. Rick watched her. "We can stay for a bit. But Carl needs to be at school tomorrow and Dre has to go to Cheryl's in the morning."

"They'll get there," he had already laid plans to ensure both of their sons got where they needed to be. The music onscreen escalated again, tearing the two of them from their conversation. Rick took advantage of the noise to kiss her deeply, silently attempting to persuade her.

"You are such a bad influence," she reproached.

He smiled at her. "Just come over for a bit. Carl and I have something for you."

Her eyebrows jumped in surprise. "That's all you had to say," she teased. "Oh look, there's a lion getting involved now," Michonne turned her attention back to the movie. Rick laughed.

"Maybe this will be the turning point," he shoveled a handful of popcorn into his mouth, shaking his head. Not even a cartoon lion could save this film.

"That was so funny, dad," Carl imparted to him brightly when they arrived back home, still laughing with Dre at the movie.

"It was the funniest," Rick caught Michonne's eye over the kids' heads. She was on the verge of laughter. Rick flicked on the lights.

"You decorated," Michonne's quick eyes caught the changes immediately. "Very nice," she complimented, taking in the rugs and throw pillows in his living room.

"You think so?" he questioned. His fingers toyed with the hem of her dress. She smiled at him.

"When did you do all of this?" she spun slowly, taking in the new additions.

"Wait until you see the rest!" Carl seized her hand, dragging her off towards his bedroom. "Come on, Dre," he called backwards. The younger boy sped up, trailing after his mother and Carl on tiny legs. Rick followed.

"Oh my gosh," the look on Michonne's face was worth all of the effort when she laid eyes on Carl's room. The brand-new bunkbed was pushed into one corner, assembled and with brand new navy blue sheets and pillows. The bottom bunk had three sliding drawers built in beneath it. A miniature dresser was pushed against the wall, pained to match the dark blue wood of the bed. He'd added another rug at Maggie's suggestion. Dre was happily running around on it, scrunching the fabric between his toes.

"Bunkbeds!" Carl bounced onto the top one delightedly. "For when you spend the night, Dre."

"Rick…" Michonne turned to him, the shocked expression still etched on her face. "You didn't need to do all of this."

Rick chuckled. His girlfriend excelled at doling out acts of kindness but needed practice accepting them. "I wanted to," he assured her.

"This is incredible," she turned her eyes back to where their sons were happily chattering away. Dre jumped headlong into the bottom bunk.

"Can we spend the night, mama?" he asked her.

"You two play nice for a minute," Rick spied the conflicted expression on Michonne's face. "The grown-ups have to talk." The boys were happy enough to comply. Carl fished a comic book out of his backpack.

"Have you seen this one?" he sat down next to Dre and opened the pages. Andre settled down beside him, leaning over. Rick was satisfied that they could survive on their own for a few minutes.

"I want to show you something," he took Michonne's hand. His bedroom was just a few steps down the hall. He pushed the door open and turned on the light, urging her to step inside. "It's nothing big," he explained, gesturing to the new piece of furniture, "but it's yours." A small, mahogany chest of drawers now sat near his own dresser.

"You bought furniture for Dre and I," Michonne's voice was quiet, her dark eyes still on the new dresser.

"It'll make it easier for the two of you to stay over here some nights," he settled behind her, laying his hands on her shoulders. "I hope you don't mind."

"Rick," she reached backwards for him. "I can't believe you did all of this."

"Least I could do." He pressed his face into her hair, inhaling the warm scent. "You're putting my family back together."

"Am I?" her voice broke. Michonne hastily wiped her face.

"What do you mean?" Rick spun her around, catching her face between his hands.

"Are we doing the right thing?" she questioned, her lovely features framed between his palms. "I keep hearing Shane's words in my head…and I can't help but wonder." The look of distress playing on her features made Rick want to kick his old friend's ass all over again.

"Michonne, listen," he moved his hands down to her waist. "I've known Lori for a long time. We've been together since high school. I know her. I used to love her," it was painful, holding his girlfriend and talking about his ex-wife. "She's not herself, Michonne. She needs time to figure it out. Carl shouldn't have to watch that."

Michonne sniffled. Rick wiped her tears away. "Sometimes I feel like I'm stealing her family," she admitted.

"You're not stealing anything," Rick lifted her chin, staring her down. "Lori and I started a family. It'll always be something we share. But this," he nodded in the direction of Carl's room. The voices of both of their sons could just be discerned through the wall. "This is ours. Yours and mine. We're building something new. I love you." It was the most important part of his argument. "I love you, and no matter what happens tomorrow, I want you here. Both you and Dre."

Michonne leaned into him, tucking her head into his chest. A wet chuckle escaped her. "You've got to stop being so perfect," she mumbled into his shirt.

"I've got you going to court for me to fight my ex-wife for custody of our son and possibly of an unborn child that may or may not be mine," Rick sighed. "I figured I better be perfect on every other front." Her laughter escalated. Rick wrapped her into a hug. "I'll never take Carl away from Lori, and I know you wouldn't want me to. But this, I have to do this. Once she's figured it out, she can see him again when she wants to."

"Then I'll help you," she pulled back to look at him. "I'm ready for it all to be over."

"Me too," Rick toyed with a tight curl near her ear. Her hair was getting longer, expanding out in a puff that he found irresistible. "I called Cheryl," he admitted. "She'll be here to pick up the kids in the morning, if you wanted to spend the night."

Michonne caught his chin in her slender palm, pulling him in for a deep kiss. He parted his lips against hers, happily drowning in the taste of her. "I'll stay," she said simply.

Rick drew her back to him, slanting his head for better access to her. She responded in kind, running her fingers through his hair in the way that sent chills racing straight down his spine.

"I love you," she broke their kiss just long enough to press this promise into his skin, sealing it with another series of kisses all over his face. He held her, content to just feel her in his arms.

"Dad!" Carl's shout announced his presence a moment before he came charging through the open bedroom door. "Where did you guys go? We were going to hang out."

"Hang out?" Michonne unfolded herself from around Rick, but did not pull away. "What did you want to do?"

"Let's play a game!" the suggestion came from Dre, who was clutching Monopoly.

"I call the race car," Rick announced, moving forward to pick up both boys and drop them on his bed. Michonne joined them, her back to his chest. Carl and Andre set up the board and pieces with studious precision. They played teams, Carl and Michonne on one, Rick and Dre on the other. Under Michonne's guidance, she and Carl won soundly. They both smirked in their victory.

"That's ok, Dre," Rick palmed the top of Andre's head. "We'll win next time."

Dre looked unconcerned. "Can we all sleep in here? Like we were camping?"

"Who told you about camping?" Michonne asked curiously, packing up the game.

"Carl. He said you would sleep in tents outside." Andre pointed at the older boy.

"We did. Remember that year it rained dad?" Carl grinned widely. "It was freezing!"

Rick laughed. They'd been flooded out and he'd come down with a cold that knocked him on his ass for a week, but it was one of his favorite memories. "Maybe we go again this summer. All of us."

"Maybe we check the weather report before we do that," Michonne suggested, shutting the game box.

"I'll show you how to pitch a tent," Carl told Dre.

"You remember how?" Rick asked his son. Carl nodded eagerly.

"I bet we could make one in here, with blankets." He was already gesturing to the ceiling fan above the bed.

"Let's try it," Rick was up, heading to the linen closet for the second pair of sheets. "Go grab your blankets boys," he instructed. With a yelp of eagerness, they both beat a path down the hall. Michonne smiled at him.

"What should I do?" she stood up.

"Grab an end," Rick tossed a sheet over the immobile fan, draping the fabric over the bed. It took fifteen minutes and some creative knot tying from both he and Michonne, but Carl and Dre were delighted with the effect.

They piled into their impromptu fort, pajama clad and exhausted. It took no time for the kids to fall asleep, sandwiched between their parents. Rick reached for Michonne's hand over their heads. She took it, her face just visible in the low light of the room. They laid in silence for a long while. Rick suspected that Michonne was as nervous as he was about tomorrow's proceedings. So much was at stake. He glanced down at his slumbering son's head. His mouth was parted in sleep, his hair plastered to his head. Dre was pressed flush to his side, his body turned in towards his mother's. Michonne stroked his hair absentmindedly with her free hand. It was the same gentleness that she used with Rick in the late hours of the night when sleep evaded them both. The days had been long lately, the nights too short. He only got her to himself at night, when the duties of single-parenthood had finally been completed. Rick looked forward to the day where he could come home to Michonne and their boys. Tomorrow was the first step.

"Happy Valentine's Day," she whispered after a quiet beep from his watch heralded in the new day.

"Happy Valentine's Day," he kissed her hand. "Go to sleep, beautiful."

Eventually she did, drifting off, her rhythmic breathing soothing him. Rick held vigil, watching the three of them, counting his blessings and praying that it all went well.


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: After much ado, here comes the big courtroom scene. Thank you for your patience and support!**

* * *

"Babe, you have to stop fidgeting," Michonne seized her boyfriend's hand, smoothing his tie back into place.

"Nervous," Rick lowered his hands to his side, drumming his fingers along his leg.

"I know," she inspected his appearance for the umpteenth time that morning. He was wearing her Valentine's Day present to him: a chocolate brown suit tailored to fit. The unusual color suited him, bringing out the bright hue of his eyes. The blue was reflecting anxiety now, the little worry lines between his brows deepening as he attempted to steady his breathing. She tucked a loose tendril back behind his ear, smiling at the sight of his salt and pepper curls. She preferred them wild, the way he looked when he fell asleep beside her or woke her up in the mornings, his mouth exploring her body like they'd never been together before. This morning, they were brushed back, tidy and out of his face. "You look very handsome," she complimented.

He smiled, his cheeks flushing. She loved that she could get this bowlegged man's man to blush, even when the whole world seemed like it was resting on his shoulders. "Just trying to keep up with you," his southern twang was in full effect. "Black is your court color, isn't it?"

She grinned, pleased that he had noticed. "It's my warrior outfit," she adjusted the hem of her ebony dress.

"You ready to go to war?" he asked her, inhaling deeply.

"I am," Michonne did not have the luxury of feeling nervous. She needed to be focused, present in the courtroom. She had done this hundreds of times and would do it hundreds more. Rick had first and foremost been her client. She had never lost a case for a client when it counted. Today was not going to tarnish her perfect record if she could help it.

"How do you stay so calm?" he asked her, chuckling nervously.

"It's my job," she winked at him, dropping a kiss on his lips. He tried to lean into her, but she stilled him with a hand to his chest. There was nothing so distracting on earth to her as Rick's kisses. "Are you ready?"

"I'm ready," he nodded. His hand caught hers, squeezing tightly. Michonne indulged him. Once they stepped through those doors, their relationship got put on the backburner. Today was about what was best for Carl.

"Let's go," she released his hand and headed for the exit. Rick followed her. Together they traipsed down the hall, her heels clicking a steady rhythm. She easily located the courtroom. The doors were shut. She checked her watch. They were ten minutes early. "The current hearing must be running long," she adjusted her bag beneath her arm, turning to Rick. He nodded. "We'll just wait," she was tempted to take his hand again, but opened her laptop bag instead, fishing out the folders to review. The last time she had come before the judge she had scarcely thought about it. It was another case after all, and not a particularly challenging one. Rick was sympathetic, the kind of client a judge would empathize with. She had not questioned her ability to win.

There was more on the line now. She could see Rick attempting to stay calm beside her. It was almost adorable, his fight to remain in control. Rick was normally so self-assured, the textbook alpha male, almost cocky at times in his confidence. They were in her element now and he was out of his depth. Remembering her tried and true trick, she fished around in a pocket of her work bag until she came up with a mint. She handed to Rick, still in its wrapper.

"Thank you," he accepted the candy gratefully, unwrapping the plastic and crinkling it in his hand. He smirked at her from around the sweet.

Michonne smiled briefly before returning to her work. Her strategy should be fool-proof, so long as she could stay objective. She repeated her argument in her head, processing through the possible tactics on the other side. Lori didn't have much of a leg to stand on, especially if she exhibited her erratic behavior in court.

Rick nudged her, stirring her from her work. She rocked in her heels, confused by his actions. "Look," he instructed quietly, his eyes down the hall. She turned her head.

Lori was strutting up the hallway, baby bump in plain view, dressed like she was auditioning for a community theater presentation of _Stepford Wives_. She was accompanied by her lawyer and by Shane Walsh. Michonne bit back a sigh. Shane's presence here could only mean one thing.

"No matter what they do, Rick, promise me that you'll stay calm," she cautioned under her breath, keeping her face impassive.

Rick looked at her, his face furrowed in confusion. "Of course. What do you mean?"

"Let me do the talking. You'll know if I need you to say something," she nodded at him, willing him to understand.

"I will," he nodded, his eyes on hers.

She did not have time to reply. The trio was just a few feet from them. "Good Morning, Joe, Officer Walsh, Ms. Wayne," she nodded at each of them in turn.

"It's Mrs. Walsh now," Shane was quick to correct her. Lori's hand was sporting a brand-new gold band. Michonne wondered if the tan line from her first ring had managed to fade before Shane slipped the new one on.

"Congratulations," she'd expected this on some level. Beside her, Rick stayed silent.

"Hello Rick," Lori circumvented Michonne's presence altogether, choosing to only address her ex-husband. She was looking at him expectantly, searching for a reaction. Rick remained stoic.

"Aren't you going to say congratulations, Rick?" Shane started in early, baiting his old friend.

"Congrats," Rick's tone was humorless but not cold. He worked the candy over in his mouth. Michonne made a mental note to make sure he had plenty of mints before they went in.

"Judge Ray should be with us in a minute," Michonne tucked her folder away, regarding them coolly. She took in Lori's baby blue dress and carefully curled hair, her lawyer's coal gray suit, Shane Walsh's black button down shirt and recently shaved head, quietly categorizing. A long silence stretched between the two groups. Rick was sucking away on his candy, his back against the wall, comfortably leaning. Michonne handed him a few more for the courtroom, determined to keep him occupied. Shane was smirking, as per usual, looking delighted. Lori was cradling her bump and sneaking periodic glances at Rick. Joe looked anywhere but Michonne, importantly ruffling his paperwork.

"It's unlike him to be late," Joe observed, referring to the judge. Michonne did not deign to respond.

The door opened at last and a family streamed out. The mother was clutching her lawyer's arm, looking relieved. Behind her, the apparent father seemed despondent, his expression dour. Michonne glanced briefly at Rick. His eyes did not leave the emerging couple.

"Shall we?" she drew his attention back to her, gesturing to the door. He remembered his manners, reaching for the handle and holding it open. She walked in, listening to Shane thank Rick sarcastically.

"Hurry up now," Judge Ray was already seated at the bench, sporting an impatient air. Michonne lengthened her strides. "Busy morning," he said by way of explanation, his eyes bouncing between the two parties. "Last time I saw you two, you had come to a temporary agreement." Judge Ray reviewed the case briefly, his eyes scanning over a packet of papers before him. "Have you settled on something permanent?"

"Before we begin, your honor," Joe spoke up, spreading his notes out in front of them, "I'd like to inform you that Michonne and her client have entered a personal relationship."

"Thank you, Mr. Kober, but I am well-aware. Ms. Jackson let me know of the change before the holidays began. As this is not a criminal case, but a family hearing, it shouldn't be an issue." Rick looked at Michonne out of the corner of his eye, a smirk just playing on his lips. Michonne did her best to not smile at him.

Joe looked deflated for a moment, but recovered quickly. "Additionally, my client has recently married."

"Congratulations," Judge Ray nodded impatiently. "Is there anything else?"

"No, your honor," Joe shut his mouth.

"Very well," the judge turned to Michonne. "Back to the custody agreement. Ms. Jackson, you indicated in your report that Officer Grimes was unsatisfied with the previously agreed upon situation. What changed?"

Michonne took a breath, "Your honor, considering Mrs. Walsh's change of situation, my client believes that the dependent, Carl Grimes, would find a more stable home with him."

"And why is that?" the judge asked curiously.

"My client is working steadily, has a suitable home and feels as though he can provide a more consistent living environment for his son." Michonne paused briefly, careful in her phrasing. "The mother has exhibited erratic behavior resulting from stress. My client would like to give her the space to stabilize her situation. We are asking for primary custody of Carl Grimes."

Joe spoke up again. "My client's behavior has been anything but erratic. She has a stable home, same as Officer Grimes, and a husband willing to provide for both her and her son. She looks forward to starting their life together and fears that Officer Grimes is asking for custody out of spite."

Michonne resisted the urge to sigh audibly. "Your honor, respectfully there is another situation in play, and another motivator for Officer Grimes' request."

"Which is?" Judge Ray prompted.

"Mrs. Walsh is pregnant." Michonne gestured to Lori's prominent bump. "Officer Grimes has reason to believe that the child could be his—"

"That baby's mine," Shane spoke out of turn. Joe glanced at him, glaring. "I'm just saying," Shane reiterated.

"Mrs. Walsh," the judge addressed Lori directly. "Can you be sure of the parentage of your unborn child?"

"It's Shane's," Lori did not skip a beat. She kept her eyes forward, her hands protectively around her bump.

"Mrs. Walsh indicated otherwise to my client," Michonne spoke up, careful to keep her words objective. "Particularly before her union with Officer Walsh, she informed Officer Grimes that she could not be sure of the parentage, as she was having carnal relations with both men." The words left a bad taste in Michonne's mouth. Between Shane and Rick, she could not imagine what had inspired Lori to pick the former.

"That's not true," it was Shane again who spoke up. Lori stayed silent again, her eyes fixed forward on the judge.

Judge Ray raised an eyebrow. Michonne pressed her advantage. "My client would like to request that a paternity test be administered upon the birth of the baby."

"And if the baby is Officer Grimes'?" the judge questioned.

"We will request shared custody." Michonne prayed that it would be unnecessary.

"But you want full custody of Carl Grimes?" he asked. Shane snorted. Michonne glanced over at him.

"If granted full custody, Mrs. Walsh would be able to see her son at her discretion. Officer Grimes thinks it best that while she is pregnant, that she focuses on the baby. Now that Mrs. Walsh is newly married, it seems even more pertinent that she and Officer Walsh have time to work out their situation. The agreement would be in the best interest of Carl, who has indicated clearly that he would like to live exclusively with his father, but still have access to his mother."

"Sounds like you wouldn't need me to decide that," Judge Ray observed, bouncing between them. "Why bring the case to court if you could work that out between the two of them?"

Joe spoke. "Mrs. Walsh feels that Officer Grimes is pressuring her into the current situation, in an attempt to force her out of her son's life. He is using her pregnancy as a smoke screen to keep Carl away from his step-father."

"What is your relationship with Carl?" Judge Ray turned to Shane.

"We get along great. We have for years," Shane shrugged, "I love that kid like he was my own."

Besides her, Rick shuffled uncomfortably. She looked over at him, willing him to stay calm. Rick kept his lips shut.

The judge sat quietly for a moment, pondering the situation. "Your honor," Michonne reached into her bag, retrieving a sealed manila envelope. "May I approach the bench?"

"You may," Judge Ray straightened up. Michonne was aware of everyone's eyes on her as she brought him the envelope, sliding it across the bench towards him.

"This is a letter from Carl Grimes, addressed directly to you. He wrote it at school," she explained, "and sealed it before either of his parents, or their legal representation could see it." Carl had slipped her the note this morning, as her mother in law prepared to shuttle him off to school. He looked visibly nervous while he did it.

"If the judge asks, give this to him," he'd requested quietly. Michonne had promised she would.

"What is it about?" Judge Ray ran a finger beneath the envelope opening it. Michonne could feel Rick's eyes boring into her back.

"I don't know, your honor," Michonne acknowledged. "Carl expressed a desire to represent his wishes to you directly. I thought it would be best. I know his parents both want what's best for their son." She retreated, coming to a stop at Rick's side.

"He gave that to you?" Lori questioned, her eyes narrowing. "How do we know that you didn't write it yourself?"

"There is no way for me to prove it," Michonne admitted. "I suppose we could schedule another hearing where Judge Ray could question Carl directly."

"Maybe we should," Shane suggested, his tone harsh. Rick opened his mouth, but upon catching Michonne's eye, shut it again.

"I'm going to read this out loud," Judge Ray announced. "It appears to be written by a child, and in a child's handwriting." He cleared his throat and the courtroom silenced. "Dear Mr. or Mrs. Judge," Judge Ray chuckled as he began. "I hope you are doing good. I am writing this because I can't talk to you face to face today. I'm sure you see a lot of families in your job. Maybe not all of them get along anymore. Maybe kids have to pick between their moms and dads all of the time. Maybe you're used to it." Judge Ray broke for a breath, licking his lips. "I have been thinking a lot about this. I never wanted to pick between my mom and my dad. I love them both. But they don't get along anymore. They never really did, even before my dad got hurt. I was sad when dad told me he wasn't going to live with us anymore. I used to wish he would come back. But now I know my dad is happy with it like this. I am happy that he is happy. It's like how he was when I was really little. I know my mom isn't really happy, not all the way like dad. I think it would be easier for her to be happy if she didn't have to take care of me all the time. She should take care of herself. We can still have fun together. I hope we see each other all the time. But I think dad is ready to take care of me by himself. I want to live with him."

The silence in the courtroom was deafening as Judge Ray paused again. Rick was breathing heavily beside Michonne.

"Please tell my mom that I am not mad at her. I still like her a lot. She is my mom and I love my mom. I don't love my dad more than her, but I like living with him more. I hope she will not be mad at me. I hope you have a good day. I hope you don't have to make too many hard choices. Thank you for reading my letter. Your friend, Carl." The judge stopped, his assessing eyes turning towards the two couples.

"Bullshit Carl wrote that," Shane protested. Besides him, Lori let out a dry sob. "She's over here playing games, writing fake letters." He jabbed a thumb in Michonne's direction. Beside her, she felt Rick bristling. "Now you've got my pregnant wife all upset," Shane wrapped his arms around a trembling Lori.

Michonne looked at the two of them. "I didn't write that letter, Officer Walsh, nor was it my intention to upset Mrs. Walsh." Carl had been elegant in his statement for a child his age. There was no doubting his intentions, if Judge Ray was willing to take them into account.

"Mrs. Walsh," the judge offered Lori a tissue from behind the bench. "If you don't mind, I'd like to speak to you alone for a moment." Michonne felt her eyebrows jump in surprise. She had never seen Judge Ray ask for something like this. "Officer Grimes, I'll speak to you afterwards. You can all wait in my quarters," he gestured, ordering them all from the room. Lori wiped her eyes. Michonne found herself leaving the courtroom for the cramped office, packed in with three bewildered and slightly angry men.

"Has he ever done this before?" Rick asked her quietly, his expression unreadable. Michonne longed to reach for his hand, but resisted.

"Not in my experience," she answered honestly. She had debated all morning whether to give that letter to the judge, and even more so whether to tell Rick. In the end, she had decided to honor Carl's request. This was all about Carl's happiness, not Rick's or Lori's. The boy had a right to speak for himself.

Rick nodded, leaning his head against the wall. He closed his eyes for a moment. Michonne longed to talk to him about what he was thinking. His eyes flicked open again to find hers. He offered her a small, reassuring smile. Michonne released the breath she didn't realize she had been holding. Shane stepped in front of them, his expression murderous.

"That's bullshit, what you pulled in there," Shane seethed, ignoring Joe's shushing. "You act all high and mighty but you're in there faking letters."

"It wasn't fake," Rick spoke up, his voice firm, his expression fierce. He moved between Michonne and his former partner, looking like he wouldn't hesitate to hit him, new suit be damned. Michonne grasped Rick's arm, gently rubbing circles into the back of his tricep.

"I don't know what you're trying to pull, but it ain't going to work," Shane paced like a caged animal.

"I'm doing what's best for _my_ son," Rick moved to step forward. Michonne held him in place. He turned around to look at her.

"It's ok," she mouthed to him. He nodded, retiring once more to her side.

"This is such bullshit," Shane reiterated, turning to Joe. "You're just going to let this happen? These two are taking you for a ride!"

"Officer Walsh," Joe finally snapped, "I strongly suggest you refrain from speaking anymore."

"You're a flake," Shane accused. He silenced despite this, but continued glaring from person to person.

The minutes stretched out, punctuated only by Rick's steady breathing and Shane's periodic huffing. The door opened, and a bailiff peeked in. "Officer Grimes, Judge Ray would like you to join us."

Michonne smiled encouragingly at Rick as he moved towards the door. "You'll be ok?" he said lowly to her, glancing back at Shane.

"I can handle it," she assured him.

The moment the door closed, Shane started up again. "So, what's your plan, lawyer girl? Steal Lori's family? Make it your own?"

Michonne stayed quiet, exchanging an exasperated look with Joe. She had never particularly cared for the man, but she felt a pang of sympathy for him now.

"Both of ya'll ain't shit," Shane complained, unable to entice either lawyer into speaking. "I'm her husband, I should be in there with her, not Rick. What are we paying you for?" he turned on Joe.

"To tell you that a step-parent has no legal rights to a step-child," Michonne admired Joe's restraint. "And to remind you, Officer Walsh," Joe paused, letting his point sink in. "that you are in a judge's chambers."

Shane glared between the two of them, looking like a child throwing a temper tantrum. He sat down in a chair, arms crossed, chest heaving. Michonne looked away from him for fear of laughing outright. Lori had her work cut out for her with this one.

It was nearly 30 minutes before the bailiff returned to summon them back to the courtroom. Michonne left the room first, eager to see how it had all unfolded. Rick was seated on their side of the room, looking exhausted. Lori had clearly been crying; her eyes were red and puffy. She avoided her husband's eyes as he sat beside her.

"So, what happened?" Shane asked, restraining his temper. Michonne took a seat beside Rick, looking at him questioningly. He sighed, reaching for her hand under the desk. Michonne accepted it, a tremor of fear rushing through her.

"What happened, Officer Walsh, is that the parties in question have come to an agreement." Judge Ray shot him a warning look. "If you would all stand for my decision." Rick released Michonne's hand as they rose to their feet. Her heart was hammering against her chest. She could not fathom how Rick must have been feeling. "Officer Rick Grimes, I grant you primary custody of Carl Grimes, contingent on the results of the paternity test in 3 month's time. Should Mrs. Walsh's child be found to be Officer Grimes', the custody agreement will be amended to shared custody of both children."

"So, we don't get Carl?" Shane asked, shocked.

"That is at the discretion of the father, Officer Grimes. I suggest you take a cooling off period and come to a decision between the three of you. Or four," Judge Ray amended, glancing at Michonne. "Mrs. Walsh, so long as you comply with the paternity test, there is no reason that I ever see any of you again." He looked relieved at the prospect. "You are dismissed."

Michonne turned to Rick immediately, searching for his reaction. He did not speak, but reached for her, pulling her into a tight hug.

"This is bullshit," Shane sounded like a broken record. "You're a better parent than Rick. Carl should be with us." His hissed whisper was anything but quiet.

"Shane, shut up," Lori found her voice at last, snapping at her new husband. Without another word, she rose to her feet, heading for the door. Joe followed behind closely, nodding at Michonne as he left. Shane reluctantly followed, glaring at Rick as he left.

Her boyfriend sighed. "I'm going to have to deal with him sooner or later," he turned to her, helping her pick up her bag. They hastily left the courtroom as Judge Ray prepared to call his next case.

"What happened?" Michonne kept her voice low, aware that Lori and Shane were still in front of them.

"I'm not sure what the judge said to Lori, but by the time I got in, she had agreed to Carl living with me." Rick paused, pulling Michonne aside.

"Really?" Michonne's eyebrows jumped.

"Really," Rick exhaled. "She was crying really hard. Maybe it was Carl's letter."

"He gave it to me this morning," Michonne explained, "He asked me to give it to the judge. I wanted to tell you, but you would have wanted to read it."

"You did the right thing," Rick interrupted her, bringing his palm up to cup her face. "This was all for Carl. He had the right to decide."

"You have a smart kid," Michonne told him, stepping closer.

"He's going to be around all the time now," the reality of the situation began to seep in. Michonne finally got to see the smile she had been hoping for since she took Rick's case almost 6 months back. "You did it," his grin widened, his whole face crinkling in his joy.

"We did it," she corrected him, her face mirroring his own. She felt dizzy with happiness and relief.

"Thank you," he crushed her into a hug, holding her against his chest. "Thank you so much."

"My pleasure," she kissed his cheek.

"Let's go," Rick pulled back all at once, seizing her hand.

"Go where?" Michonne had no plans for the rest of the day. She followed at Rick ushered them from the building.

"It's Valentine's Day," Rick told her. "I'm taking you out."

"Out where? It's the middle of the day," she laughed.

Rick glanced at his watch. "We have 4 hours before we need to pick up Carl," the phrase seemed to delight Rick. "I've got an idea."

Michonne rarely had an afternoon free and had never before found herself sitting on a Ferris Wheel in the middle of a work week. Rick was beside her, his arm over her shoulder. His eyes skipped the view entirely and focused on her face.

"I've never been on the Skyview before," Michonne told him, growing warm under his gaze.

"Seemed like a good place to celebrate," he kissed her, holding her face to his.

"I was worried while we were waiting," she admitted when he pulled back. "Shane was throwing a tantrum."

Rick rolled his eyes. "Lori was crying her eyes out in front of the judge. They make a good pair." He ruffled a hand through his hair, releasing his curls from their structured coif. "She even made me feel bad for her for a minute. Then she just told me I could have Carl. Could've bowled me over, I was so surprised."

"Just like that?" Michonne asked.

"Well, with some tears and some sobbing and drama," Rick amended. "I wish I knew what Judge Ray said to her."

Michonne considered this. "Maybe she just saw reason."

"I think it was hard for her to fight Carl's direct wishes. There was no denying our son wrote that. He used to write us these little notes when we fought, slip them under the door." Rick scooted closer to her, pulling her hand into his lap.

"What did they say?" Rick always got a far off look when he talked about his time with Lori.

"They asked us to get along. Told us to be happy." Rick sighed.

"Are you happy now?" Michonne asked.

Rick turned to her, brushing his fingers along her chin. "I'm the happiest that I've ever been." His lips found Michonne's again. She slanted her head beneath his, opening her mouth to his affections. Several revolutions passed on the Ferris Wheel but neither of them saw much of the view. Michonne was flushed and panting by the time they disengaged. Rick had to help her out of their cart. Her legs felt like jelly.

"Do you want to go out and get lunch, or go to my place?" the subtext of his question did not escape her.

"Your place," she answered without hesitation. "It's closer to Carl's school. We can take the kids out to celebrate for dinner."

Rick grinned at her, "My thoughts exactly, beautiful."

The ride home was one of the most enjoyable that Michonne had ever experienced. The promise of a long night together stretched before her. She could not wait to be on the couch with her boys. The smiles died on both Rick and her faces when Rick rolled into the driveway to see a strange SUV.

"That's Shane's car," Rick shut off the ignition.

"Shane?" Michonne expected to see him again, but not nearly so soon.

"Stay in the car," Rick instructed, glancing at her pleadingly. In front of them, Shane exited his own vehicle. Michonne felt her heart clench.

"Be careful," she warned, reluctantly releasing his hand.

Rick nodded, opening his door. "What do you want Walsh?" he asked.

Michonne swallowed nervously as her boyfriend walked towards Shane.


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: You guys are a dream. Your responses are all so lovely, insightful and hilarious. Thank you for your continued support!**

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Rick could feel Michonne's eyes on him as he exited the car. He wondered vaguely which one of his coworkers had betrayed his new address. The alternative was a frightening thought, one that harkened back to the moment months ago when Shane had followed Michonne through the department store. His former friend had become unhinged over the last six months. Stalking did not seem out of his wheelhouse. Even now, there was a wild energy in his eyes, like an injured animal backed into a corner. It was this look that had prompted Rick to leave his girlfriend in the car. If Shane was going to hurt anyone, it would not be Michonne.

"What do you want, Walsh?" he asked, his voice firm. He took purposeful steps towards his old friend, wishing that his gun was on his hip and not inside the safe in his house.

"Answer me one thing man," Shane's hand came to the back of his head, his hair sheered short. "And don't fucking lie."

Rick bristled at his tone, "You show up at my house uninvited and you're making demands?" Rick had reached his threshold with this drama. He paused a few steps away from Shane, his hands balled at his side.

Shane chuckled. "One question, and I'm gone."

"Or you're gone now," Rick took another step towards Shane, his control splintering. The pleasant feeling he had created with Michonne on the Ferris Wheel had evaporated. Shane had an uncanny talent for killing the vibe.

"Did Lori ask for you back, man?" his dark eyes found Rick's, the distress clear. Rick had a sudden memory of their time in high school. Shane had always had a temper, even when they were kids. It was genetic, a byproduct of a borderline abusive dad. His friend had spent many nights at Rick's parents' house, retreating there when things at home escalated. He'd always had that same look, like he was torn between wanting to explode and wanting to cry. They used to stay up late into the night, talking about anything but their families, but that was years away. The man now was no child, but a nuisance quickly wearing out his welcome.

"Why don't you go home and talk to your wife about it?" Rick was done with the games, done with indulging in their drama.

"I'm talking to you about it," Shane crossed his arms over his chest, his fingers twitching.

"That's probably something you should have worried about before you married her," Rick chanced a glance back at Michonne. She was leaning over the dashboard of his truck, watching them intensely. He swallowed down his temper. "Yeah, she asked for me back," he didn't give a damn whether Shane knew this or not. He wanted him off of his property.

"When was this?" Shane sniffed, glancing off down the street.

"A few weeks back," Rick stayed rooted in place, watching him carefully. There was something in Shane's suddenly calm mannerisms that wasn't sitting right with Rick at all.

"You didn't tell me?" Shane banged a hand down on the hood of his dark SUV.

"Didn't really see the need to," Rick squinted at him. "It ain't like we're friends anymore." He used to tell Shane everything, every little problem that ever transpired between himself and Lori. He would never commit that error ever again.

"Guess we ain't." Shane sucked on his teeth, inhaling heavily. "Why didn't you take her back?"

"Lori? Are you kidding me?" Rick let out a bark of laughter, a mirthless sound.

"I ain't," Shane's frantic gaze shifted back to him.

"I wouldn't have taken her back even if I didn't have Michonne," Rick wanted this to be very clear. "I'm not going to stand out here talking about my ex with you. It's Valentine's Day and I got a few hours left with my girl before I need to get my son." Rick jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. "You need to fucking leave."

"See, here's the thing I don't get man," Shane drummed his hand along the steel of his car, ignoring what Rick had just declared. "You were always complain' about her. Always."

"Because we were always fighting," Rick shook his head. "What the hell are you getting at?" He'd had encounters with drug-addicted suspects that made more sense than this.

"You never appreciated what you had man," Shane turned on him, raising his voice. "She's a good woman."

"Good thing you think so. I hear you're supposed to like your wife." Rick considered his options, wondering whether he should just force Shane into his car.

"It was a blessin', you gettin' shot," Shane was on a tirade now, his eyes unfocused. "Tore me up at first. Still feel bad about it sometimes. But I was there. I was there for your family. Taking care of them. Being there for Lori. Didn't expect it to happen but it did." Shane shook his head, a wry smile crossing his face. "You divorced her. Hooked up with your lawyer. Took Carl. And she still wants you. Even with you out of the way, you're still in the way."

"She married you," Rick almost shouted it at Shane. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"She married me 'cause you wouldn't take her back." Shane's dark irises snapped to Rick. "I'm second place."

The extent of Shane's mental deterioration occurred to Rick in one terrifying moment. It was the culmination of everything, his erratic behavior, the interloping on his family, the looks he gave Michonne. It wasn't enough for Shane to have Rick's old life, old wife, old house.

From behind them, Rick could hear the door of his truck open. Acting on instinct, he put himself between Shane and Michonne.

"Rick," Michonne's voice was oddly calm as she called to him. He longed to turn to her, but refused to take his eyes off Shane. The back of her hand brushed his shoulder.

"You should go home to your wife, Shane," Rick angled his body until he was sure Michonne was completely shielded from his view. "It's the husband's job to be there. That's your job." If he couldn't scare Shane away, he'd appeal to his obsessive need to be around Lori. Rick chanced a glance at Michonne. Her eyes were wide, her lips parted in shock.

"That's my job," Shane swallowed, echoing Rick's words. He looked the way he had during their teenage years, when Rick would talk him off the edge.

"Go home," he told him, "Go home to Lori." The two of them deserved one another.

Shane removed his hand from his pocket. For a moment, Rick felt himself tense, prepared to tackle his old partner. Then his eyes fell on the car keys in Shane's hand. He relaxed for the moment, watching Shane depart without another word.

"Rick," Michonne released a broken gasp when Shane drove away. Rick watched his car disappear around the corner before turning to her.

"Let's go inside," he ushered her in the house, locking the door behind him.

"He's not well," Michonne looked shaken. "I thought it was just jealously, but…" she broke off, looking ready to cry.

"His pop," Rick sighed, glancing out of his window. "His pop was like that when we were kids."

"What happened to him?" she asked.

"He drank himself to death." Rick checked the locks on the windows.

"Does Lori know?" Michonne clung to his hand. She was trembling.

Rick shook his head. Unchivalrous though it might seem, he didn't particularly care whether Lori knew or not. She'd made her bed with Shane long ago. He had another family to protect now. Turning, he caught Michonne's face between his hands. "Are you all right?"

"I wasn't going to sit there and watch him being crazy. I recorded him from the car… just in case." She exhaled shakily. Rhythmically, she drew in another breath, calming herself down.

"You filmed it all?" he glanced down at the phone in her hand once she had steadied her breathing.

"Yes," she thumbed the screen, calling up the video. "He needs to get help."

"That's for Lori to deal with. We can't do anything." Shane would accept no act of kindness from Rick, and Rick was in no mood to offer it.

"I could get Andrea to send this to her. We've seen this before. We can put Lori in contact with some agencies…" Michonne's mind was going into planning mode, her kneejerk reaction to a crisis.

"Michonne," Rick cut her off. He took the phone from her hand and set it on the counter.

"Sorry," she shook her head. Rick brought his hand up to finger the kinky curls of her hair. "I'm getting ahead of myself. It's difficult to turn the lawyer off sometimes."

"Don't apologize," he smiled at her reassuringly, determined to get them back to where they had been a few minutes ago. "You've been great today." He brushed his lips along the bare skin by her shoulder, delighting in the shudder that rolled through her body.

"I thought he was going to hurt you," she admitted.

"He's not going to hurt me. Or you. Or anybody," he kissed her neck, then the sensitive skin behind her ear, then the corner of her mouth. Michonne clung to him, sighing against his body.

"When he comes back we should—"

Rick covered her mouth with his own, teasing her lips open with his tongue. She moaned outright. "He's not coming back," Rick moved back just far enough to assure her of this. "I'm going to take care of it."

Her dark, almond-shaped eyes stared back at him, full of uncertainty. Rick grasped her around the waist, hefting her into his arms. Without preamble, he marched them into his bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him. He dropped her on his bed, his hands still around her waist. "Don't worry about it," he reiterated, leaning down for a bruising kiss, drawing a gasp of pleasure from her. "I'll take care of it," he repeated, shedding his jacket and tie.

"I know you will," Michonne's voice was husky, all trace of the worry gone. She licked her lips, her eyes trailing up his body as he unbuttoned the shirt she had bought him. He stood up, enjoying the way her gaze never left him.

"You should take your dress off," it was less of a suggestion than a command. Cognizant of the fact that the suit he was wearing was a gift from her, he added his pants to the growing pile of clothing on his bed.

Michonne sat up, reaching behind her to yank her zipper down. Rick considered helping her, but took a step backwards, choosing to watch her shimmy her way out of the garment. She scarcely had laid it to the side when he picked her up again, grasping her around her warm toned thighs.

"Rick," there was nothing he liked so much as the sound of her moaning his name, except perhaps the feeling of being inside of her. Bracing her against the wall of his bedroom, he slipped a hand beneath the lace of her panties. "Oh God," she whimpered against him, rolling her hips up. He held her firmly in place, enjoying her gasps of pleasure as he lavished her with attention. Her whole chest heaved against him as she clung to him, trying in vain to get closer. "Please, Rick," she whined, her fingernails scrambling against his bare back as he held her still against the wall.

"Please, what?" he teased her, pushing harder into her briefly before pulling out completely.

"Fuck…" the curse rolled past her lips as she pulled his face towards hers. He wasn't sure if it was a demand or an involuntary reaction, but it was enough for him. He yanked the flimsy lace fabric away from her body and dove inside in one motion. Michonne screamed loud enough to wake the dead. He caught her lips again, his tongue mimicking his thrusts. Her legs tightened around his waist, her fingers digging into his shoulders. Rick grasped her round ass in one hand, his other braced against the wall, pounding into her steadily. He didn't want her thinking about Shane anymore, or Lori, or anything besides how he felt inside of her. She had held up her part of their bargain; she had gotten Carl back to him. He would take care of the rest.

"I love watching you in the court room," he freed her lips enough to whisper lowly in her ear, fully aware of the effect his accent had on her. "I couldn't wait to get you home. I've been thinking about this all day." Michonne let out an unintelligible groan. This was the only scenario in which he could render her speechless.

"I wanted you on that Ferris Wheel," she managed to get out in-between gasps, taking him by surprise. He sped up his pace, enticed by the mental image she had just inspired.

"Next time," he promised her, already working on a way to fulfill that fantasy. He slipped his thumb up her thighs, adding his hand to the mix. She broke apart against him, calling out his name reverently, going slack in his arms. Rick gave her a gentle shake, bouncing her. "Don't give out on me yet," he teased. They still had a few hours before they needed to leave. He had every intention of using up every single one of them. Still joined, he walked them backwards until they hit his bed.

By the time he was finished, Michonne was utterly exhausted, practically limp beneath the sheets.

"Holy shit," she exhaled into his pillows, catching her breath. Her skin glistened with perspiration. She rolled her body into his one last time, drawing a chuckle from him. Rick was tired, but his adrenaline was still up. The day was far from over.

"Rest up," he instructed, kissing her shoulder. "I'll go get the kids." Rick was up before she could protest, pulling on jeans and a shirt.

"Are you sure?" her question was clearly more for the sake of being polite than anything else. Rick laughed, watching her prone form snuggle into his bedding. It was amazing how effortlessly she could transition from sex-goddess to adorable. Most of her face was shielded by his comforter, only her large eyes exposed to him.

"I'm going to get the kids," he told her, "then we're going to bring home dinner. I suggest you take a nap. I'm going to need you again tonight." He smiled suggestively and she mirrored his expression, lowering the blanket from her face.

"I love you," she leaned up to kiss him. Her adoring expression spiked his ego.

"Love you too," he gave her a playful slap on the bottom, grinning at her giggle. "I'll see you in an hour or two." He looked forward to having both boys with him for the afternoon. It occurred to him that it was a privilege he could look forward to often.

Michonne retreated to the bathroom. He heard his shower start before he moved out of his room, heading for the hallway closet. Standing on tip toe, he accessed the small safe on the top shelf. It had been a while since he felt compelled to carry his python. He loaded the weapon, feeling the familiar weight against his palm and checked the safety. He didn't like having his gun around Carl, and even less so around Andre. Still, he took it and the harness, securing them around his belt and under his shirt. Locating Michonne's phone still on the kitchen counter, he texted the video to himself.

"Noah," he called his partner the moment he was in the car.

"Hey, Grimes. How'd the hearing go today?" the sounds of traffic hummed along under Noah's voice.

"We won," Rick appreciated Noah remembering. "How's it out there?"

"That's good news," Noah congratulated him. "It's quiet today," a loud honk contradicted Noah's statement. Rick chuckled.

"Mind doing me a favor?" he asked, navigating his way towards Dre's daycare.

"Sure thing. It's a slow day anyway."

"Can you find out if someone in the precinct is still in contact with Shane? He showed up at my house today."

"Shit…" Noah exhaled. "Your crazy ex-partner?"

"I don't think the crazy part is an exaggeration." Rick adjusted his holster while he waited at a light.

"You think he'll pull something?" Noah asked.

"I'm hoping he won't get the chance to," Rick went over the next few steps in his head, formulating his plan.

"All right Grimes. I'll do some digging. See you tomorrow?" Noah sounded eager to help.

"I'll be there." Rick grinned. The young guy was growing on him fast. "Thanks, partner."

By the time that Rick signed Dre out of his preschool and got him secured in the car, Rick had already contacted his captain. Horvath did not take the video lightly.

"I'll talk to Walsh's captain," he'd assured Rick.

"Where are we going, Officer Rick?" Dre's feet bounced around in his booster seat.

"We're going to get Carl," Rick grinned at him from the rearview mirror.

"And then see mama?" he continued his line of questioning.

"We're going to bring her dinner first," Rick reached back to tickle Dre's leg. The little boy let out a delighted squeal. "What does your mom like to eat?"

"Chicken nuggets," Dre instantly rattled off what Rick knew to be the preschooler's own favorite snack.

"What about steak?" Rick ventured.

"With French fries?" Dre asked cautiously.

"Can't have a celebration without French fries," Rick assured him.

"Ok," Dre smiled brightly. "Can we spend the night at your house?"

Rick needed to talk to Michonne about this later. Until he took care of the Shane problem, he didn't want Michonne and Dre home alone. Rick knew that his girlfriend was more than capable of protecting herself and her son, but he was not going to let her sit out in harm's way. He could convince her if he laid out his case.

"Dad?" Carl's surprised face drew Rick out of his head a few minutes later. "What are you doing here? Is something wrong with mom?"

Rick did not know how to answer his son's last question so he focused on the first one. "You're coming home with me," he grinned, thumbing the brim of Carl's sheriff's hat. "You might want to get used to me picking you up."

"Really?" the sheer delight on Carl's face filled Rick's heart with joy. Things were going to be ok now. They had to be. He and Michonne were building something that was going to outlast Lori and Shane's pettiness.

"Really," Rick caught his son in his arms, squeezing him.

"Did the judge read my letter?" Carl asked, wrapping his arms around Rick's shoulders. It has been years since his son had allowed Rick the privilege of holding him, but he made no move to juke his father's affections now.

"He did. That was a good idea," Rick complimented, releasing Carl and helping him into the truck.

"Was mom mad?" he asked quietly, pausing before he climbed in beside Dre.

"Mom knew that you were right," Rick patted his son on the back, "she's not mad at you."

Carl sighed in relief. "Will I see her soon?"

Rick paused, using the time to walk around to the driver's seat to formulate his response. There was no chance that Carl was going anywhere near his mother and her new husband until this was sorted.

"Soon," Rick promised his son, starting up the truck. "But first, we need to get dinner."

He ate steak on the couch beside Michonne, watching their children scarf down their food on the floor in front of them. The new _Star Wars_ movie was playing on the television, Carl's homework was done and Michonne was laughing next to him, stealing bites off his plate of his mashed potatoes. Rick was almost completely at ease.

Dre happily imitated characters onscreen, asking Carl questions a mile a minute about the movie. Carl answered patiently, happy to espouse the secrets of the Jedi Order to such an attentive audience. Rick took advantage of their captured attention to kiss Michonne.

"Are you having a good Valentine's Day?" he asked her.

"The best," she ran her hands over his jean-covered knee. A yawn split her face.

"Don't get too tired," he whispered in her ear. "I'm still not done with you."

"You're insatiable," the gleam in her eyes suggested that she wasn't upset about it. He cocked an eyebrow, polishing off the last bit of food from his plate. On television, the credits began to roll.

"Bedtime," he announced happily, ignoring the protests from both boys. He stood up, shuttling them to their room.

"Are the kids ok?" Michonne asked him later. She was already in bed, her legs bare beneath the covers, staring up at him expectantly.

"Sleeping in their bunks," Rick removed his shoes and began to pull his shirt over his head. Michonne's eyes fell immediately on his gun.

"I haven't seen you with that before," she observed, her tone conversational.

He sat at her feet, swinging his belt off and holding the gun out to her. "Do you know how to use one?" She shook her head, gingerly tracing over the handle. "I'll teach you," he told her, laying the gun down on the bedside table.

"Are you worried?" she asked quietly. Her slender arms hugged her knees.

"No," he shook his head, reaching for her. "You and Dre should stay here for a while. Just until I get things settled."

Michonne nodded slowly, throwing the covers back and crawling forwards towards him. She swung her bare legs into his lap. "Rick," her voice was low. Rick ran her hands over her smooth skin. She covered his fingers with her own. "Don't do something dangerous," she warned.

He kissed her, pulling her into his lap until she was straddling him, her breathing becoming erratic as he nipped at her lips. "Nothing is going to happen to us," he tugged gently at her ear with his teeth.

"I know," she sucked at his neck, her fingernails tracing a rough path down to his waist.

"Shane's not going to ruin this for us," he drove his point home with another wet kiss. "Neither will Lori."

"We should make a new rule," Michonne panted against him, her hands working their way beneath the waistband of his jeans. "Let's not mention them while we're in bed." She grasped him, successfully turning his attention fully to her.

"Deal," he agreed readily, flipping them both over and onto the bed.

It was well into the middle of the night when Michonne was finally spent, sleeping comfortable among his tangled sheets. Rick disengaged from her carefully, tugging on sweatpants and retreating out into his hallway. Carl and Dre were still sleeping peacefully in their room.

"Dad?" Carl's voice startled him.

"What are you doing up?" he asked his son, quietly approaching the top bunk.

"I heard you come in," Carl yawned, his whole body shaking with the force of it. "Why aren't you sleeping?"

"I wanted to check on you two," Rick glanced down at the bottom bunk, satisfied to see that Andre was knocked out. His little chest was rising and falling, his expression very much like his mother's when she was asleep.

"Is it going to be like this a lot?" Carl asked him, leaning over the side of his bed. "All of us together?"

Rick bent over to kiss the top of his son's head. "Yeah," he ruffled Carl's hair. "Go back to sleep, kid."

"Goodnight, dad" Carl rolled back over. Rick shut the door snuggly on the bedroom. He continued checking the windows and doors, peeking out of the curtains to watch the darkened street. He returned to bed only once he was sure that things outside were quiet.

Rick lay awake, pressed against his nude girlfriend's prone form. Today was the start of something new, the beginning of everything.

No one was going to take this from him. Rick would make sure of it.


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: To those who read, review, comment, message and spread the word about this story, thank you from the bottom of my heart. I am humbled by your positive response. You are the reason I write.**

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The deli was packed for lunchtime, practically bursting at the seams as businessmen, construction workers and lawyers poured in and out, securing sandwiches. Lori chose a table away from the window, her back to the wall, her eyes watching the occupants wearily. Part of her expected that Michonne Jackson would not show up.

Lori took a nervous sip of water, questioning what she would do if her role was reversed with the stoic lawyer. Desperation had driven her to look up Michonne's work number earlier that week, searching for it in the quiet hours of the morning after Shane had gone to work. Lori had waited nearly three days before mustering the grit to actually dial. She'd called the office in the middle of the night, afraid to speak with Michonne directly, and left a message. It was not until this morning when the lawyer had called her back.

"Can I get you anything?" a dark-haired man with a mullet harkening back to the early 90s appeared suddenly beside Lori, his eyes watching her with an unsettling intensity.

"I'm fine with water for now," Lori mustered a weak smile. It did not quite sit right on her face, as though she'd forgotten how to properly form one. She'd managed to smile in the wedding picture that Shane's new partner took of them at the courthouse. Her husband had gotten it printed and framed that day. It now sat on the mantle where the photo of she and Rick had been. To an outsider, it might not even look like a wedding day picture; her dress was pale pink, her hair pulled up. Lori's first wedding had been a three-ring circus of bridesmaids and groomsmen, friends from high school thrilled to play dress up for a day and act like adults. She and Rick had been so young.

"You really should eat something," The waiter with the questionable hairstyle nodded at her, his thick accent rumbling out in a low monotone. "On account of the pregnancy. You look underweight as is. I read somewhere that a pregnant woman should be getting at least twenty-two hundred calories a day. Twenty-four hundred in your third trimester." The waiter paused, looking at her expectantly.

"I'm waiting for a friend," Lori stammered. The man continued watching her. Lori's arms tightened reflexively over her baby bump.

"Eugene," a burly man with an impressive handlebar mustache knocked into his mulleted employee. "Stop bothering the customers. She'll order when she's ready." He stroked his ginger facial hair, shooing off the waiter. Eugene shuffled away, still muttering about calories. "Sorry about that," the redhead glanced apologetically at her, "he's overzealous sometimes."

"No problem," Lori's eyes flickered to the door. The bell rang as the glass swung open, admitting Michonne Jackson and a second woman with dark curly hair and red lipstick. The redhead looked delighted by this turn of events. He moved off from Lori's table.

"Sasha," he hugged the woman. She graciously accepted, looking amused. Michonne Jackson hugged him in turn, her eyes scanning the crowded deli. Lori held up a hand slowly, drawing attention to herself reluctantly.

"Want two Cubanos?" the redhead asked the two dark-skinned women boisterously.

"Three please, Abe," Michonne smiled at him. Lori was taken aback by how the lawyer's face transformed instantly with that smile. It was warm and inviting, almost enticing. This must have been how she was with Rick. Lori wondered if Rick made Michonne smile often. Back when things had been good between them, he had always made Lori laugh.

"Coming right up," Abe winked at Michonne, heading back into the kitchen.

Lori's heart began to rattle against her ribcage. Her baby was kicking wildly inside of her, perhaps urging her to get up and run. She steeled her nerves, willing herself to stay in place while the two lawyers walked towards her table.

"Mrs. Walsh," Michonne's voice was calm, the way she kept it in the courtroom. It was still a shock to be referred to this way. She'd hated Rick's last name at first, resenting trading her all-American surname for one that was reminiscent of muck. Walsh wasn't far off from Wayne, but it was taking some getting used to.

"Michonne," Lori took a shaky breath, noticing that Michonne's eyebrows jumped at the use of her first name. It still felt weird coming out of Lori's mouth. "Thank you for coming."

Both women said nothing, taking their seats. They were donned in bright colors, Michonne in a gold dress that played well against her dark skin and the second woman in a blue blazer over a red jumpsuit. Lori felt woefully undressed. She pulled her sweater tighter around her body, taking in the professional pair before her. Michonne's partner was watching Lori carefully through her thick curls, her expression not unkind, but completely devoid of warmth. Lori felt naked under that pair of dark brown eyes, as if she was being peeled layer by layer.

"Do you guys eat here a lot?" Lori made a venture at pleasant conversation, sipping on her ice water to give herself something to do. Her other hand was shaking in her lap, the new ring on her finger feeling heavy.

"Occasionally," it was Michonne who answered. Her posture was impeccable, her legs crossed at the ankle to the side of her chair, her arms atop the table. A heavy silver bangle was around Michonne's left wrist. Lori squinted at it, just making out the shape of horses. "Abe makes great sandwiches."

"You look like you could use one," the other woman spoke at last, taking Lori aback. "I'm sure the baby makes you ravenous," she continued.

"This is Sasha Williams, a colleague of mine." Michonne introduced her at last.

"Pleasure to meet you," Lori extended a hand. Miss Williams shook it silently.

"What did you want to discuss today, Mrs. Wayne?" Michonne regarded Lori coolly.

Lori licked her lips, still unsure what she wanted to achieve. There was so much going on now, she was unsure where to begin. "I should probably start by apologizing," it was difficult to get the words out, let alone meet Michonne's eyes, but Lori forced herself to. "I haven't been making things easy for you. Or for Rick." Miss Williams raised one manicured eyebrow, but Michonne remained silent, her expression betraying nothing. "I know I have no right to ask you for anything," Lori swallowed thickly, bile splashing around the walls of her stomach, "but I need your help."

"Regarding what?" Michonne took a drink from the glass in front of her.

"My husband," Lori's mind wandered to Shane. He'd been ecstatic at their courthouse wedding, grinning like Christmas had come early, making plans for the baby's room and tossing around name suggestions. Guilt had driven Lori to tell him about her coffee meeting with Rick. Her last marriage had folded under the weight of her falsehoods; she was determined to make this one work. Shane had confessed to her about the blonde lawyer. She figured this would be a clean start for the both of them. She hadn't counted on the intensity of his grief, or the level of his envy towards her ex.

Michonne rose one eyebrow whilst her coworker calmly kept her eyes on Lori. It was clear that Michonne had some understanding of Shane's current mental state. She wondered what Michonne must think of Shane. She wondered what both women thought of her.

"Why did you marry him?" Michonne asked at last. To her credit, there was no judgement in her tone, just plain curiosity.

"He loves me," it felt like a flimsy reason and Lori supposed it was. Rick had loved her too, had tried his best to make a life for her. She had chosen Shane.

Michonne nodded, pausing their conversation to smile at the redheaded man as he brought them a heaping pile of sandwiches. The smell made Lori's mouth water.

"Here you are, ladies," three plates hit the table. "Made yours special, Sasha." He departed with a wink and a peace sign. Sasha raised two fingers with a smile, waving him off.

"You should eat," Michonne instructed, unwrapping her own meal. She took a bite, a look of joy spreading over her face as she tasted their lunch. She was much prettier than Lori had allowed herself to notice initially. She had the kind of skin Lori had always envied, smooth and dark and devoid of any kind of blemishes. She had lips that a model would kill for, the confidence to pull off short hair. Michonne looked nothing like Lori, nothing like anything she would have thought Rick would have liked.

Lori fiddled with the wax paper on her sandwich, taking a cautious swallow. It was delicious, the kind of decadent meal she rarely indulged in. Sasha and Michonne had no reservations about partaking in the food. She wondered how they kept their figures up. They were both so slender and much more muscular than she was.

"What about your husband has you worried?" Michonne brought Lori's attention back to the subject at hand.

Lori paused, speculating about what Rick had told Michonne about her, questioning how much she knew. "I told him about a conversation I had with Rick," she ventured cautiously.

"That you wanted him back," Michonne set her sandwich down. Lori's heart clenched. "How did Shane react?" Michonne's next question caught Lori off-guard. If someone had made a play for a man she was with, she would have lashed out, would have immediately questioned the other woman's intentions. Lori took in Michonne's calm expression, feeling even more jittery.

"He was hurt," Lori swallowed, shame washing over her. Across the table, Sasha caught Michonne's eye.

"How is he now?" Michonne turned back to Lori.

"Restless," Lori wiped her mouth, feeling pressure building behind her eyes. "I'm worried."

"When you were still married, did Rick ever mention Shane's childhood to you?" Michonne folded her hands on the table.

Lori felt a jolt of surprise. "Just that it wasn't the easiest…"

Sasha let out something between a snort and a chuckle. Lori kept her eyes on Michonne.

"It sounds like there's a history of mental illness there," Rick's lawyer continued speaking in her soothing, soft voice. "I suggest you take it seriously. Do you feel endangered?"

Lori's eyes widened. There was no malice in Michonne's tone, no suggestion that anything being said right now was upsetting her. It was a trait that Lori recognized well from her ex-husband. When there were serious issues at hand, Rick rarely let his emotions run away with him. Perhaps that's why he got along so well with the woman sitting across from her.

"No," Lori shook her head. Shane would never hurt her.

Michonne pursed her lips. "He made an unexpected appearance at Rick's house a week ago, after the hearing." She took another bite, chewing while Lori absorbed this new information.

Lori paused, startled. She didn't even know where Rick lived. "What did he do?"

Michonne glanced at her friend, silently engaging in a conversation. Sasha nodded and Michonne reached into her bag, retrieving her phone. Wordlessly, she called up a video and slid the device across the table. It was taken from what Lori instantly recognized as the inside of Rick's truck. He'd had that thing since she'd been pregnant the first time. Shane was outside, talking with Rick. The men clearly weren't getting on. Her ex-husband was angry but calculated. Her new husband was erratic and unpredictable. She felt fear clench her heart once her name got mentioned and voices got raised. There was frantic movement from behind the camera as the truck door was thrown open. She heard Michonne call out to Rick and then the video was blocked by Rick's back.

"Go home to Lori," she recognized his voice, the low warning in it. Shane left without another word. As he video ended, Michonne let out a shaky breath on camera.

"You took this?" Lori asked, feeling embarrassing tears behind her eyes. The tenderness in Michonne's voice at the end of that clip as she called out Rick's name had twisted into Lori's gut like a knife.

Michonne nodded. "Mrs. Walsh, you need to think very seriously about this. If you are determined to stay with Shane—"

"I am," Lori nodded emphatically. "I'm not going to mess this one up. The baby," she took a breath. "It's probably his. The odds that she's Rick's…"

Michonne interrupted her. "It's a girl? Congratulations."

"She's probably not Rick's," Lori admitted, swallowing down more shame. She hoped Michonne would not press her for details.

Michonne's professionalism did not disappoint. "Then for the sake of your marriage, and the sake of your little girl, you need to get your husband some help. He's not well." Michonne reached out to play the video again, her phone pumping out the sounds of the fight.

"I'll talk to him," Lori pressed pause quickly, unwilling to hear it all once more.

"You need to do more than talk," Michonne corrected her immediately. "Rick is taking this very seriously. I'm not sure what will happen if they see each other again," for the first time, a flicker of worry crossed Michonne's face. It occurred to Lori that she was scared for Rick.

"He won't hurt Rick…" Lori attempted to reassure her.

Michonne shook her head emphatically. "You cannot be sure of that. He's already been more than willing to beat him up in broad daylight."

"Rick…he was fighting too," Lori scrambled for an excuse.

Sasha sighed, "Mrs. Walsh, if you aren't going to take this seriously, then we'll address it some other way."

Michonne held up a hand to her friend, engaging in another wordless conversation. "Lori, if you seriously believe that nothing is wrong with Shane, I don't have time to convince you of the truth. But if you love that man, if you love your daughter, and Carl," Michonne paused, her eyes digging into Lori from across the table, "Then I suggest you take our advice." Michonne removed a card from her wallet and handed it to Lori. "Call this number. Get your husband some help."

Lori stayed silent, Michonne's words tumbling over in her head. She knew that Carl harbored an intense affection for his father's new girlfriend, one that was clearly mutual. An intense streak of jealousy shot through her body. Her first love, her son, even her new husband all seemed enthralled in some way with Michonne.

"You ladies all right over here?" Mullet man was back, interrupting her envious thoughts and looking eager to help.

"I think we're just about done, Eugene," Michonne's voice reverted to polite tones.

"Will you be needing the check?" he questioned.

"Could we get these sandwiched wrapped up?" Sasha smiled at him.

"And could we get two more to go?" Michonne formed over her credit card.

Lori watched the whole exchange unfold, clutching the card in her hand. It was for a therapist, one who specialized in couple's therapy.

"You wanted my help," Michonne tapped the card in Lori's hand, her fingernails scraping over the cardstock. "I suggest you take it." The sandwiches came back in a plastic bag along with Michonne's credit card. She hastily signed her name. "Take care of yourself, Mrs. Walsh," she stood up. Lori was not sad to see her go and Michonne did not look back at her.

Lori watched them silently, the card growing warm in her hand, her Cubano growing cold on her plate. Michonne and Sasha departed, leaving her with her thoughts. She glanced down at the number.

"You need anything else, Miss?" Eugene asked her.

"No," Lori shook her head, reaching for the cellphone in her purse. "I'm good."

* * *

"Cubanos?" Glenn stood up from his place at the desk, looking delighted.

"Your favorite," Michonne placed the wrapped sandwich before him.

"How did it go?" Andrea accepted her lunch with a nod, looking expectant.

Sasha laughed outright. "She finally admitted that the baby daddy is probably officer crazy's."

"Did she?" Glenn perked up, looking surprised.

"She had the nerve to ask for Michonne's help," Sasha shook her head, looking bewildered.

"What did you do?" Glenn asked Michonne.

"She helped, of course," Andrea and Sasha answered almost in unison. Both pairs of eyes were on her. Michonne knew that they thought her compassion for Lori was unwarranted.

Michonne shrugged, smiling despite herself. "Hopefully, Lori does the right thing."

Andrea snorted. "I doubt it." Michonne did not respond.

Beside her, Sasha regarded her carefully. Michonne avoided her glance. "I'm going to finish my lunch at my desk," she announced.

"What happened?" Andrea's glance bounced between the two of them. Michonne desperately wanted to retreat to her own space.

"I just need to get back to work," Michonne smiled. "I wasted enough time today." Andrea laughed but Glenn's eyes narrowed. Her young paralegal refrained from speaking, though he did not look fooled at all by Michonne's cavalier words. Michonne knew that she could look forward to him visiting her before the day was through.

Sasha also did not seem to trust her response. She was on Michonne's heels as she headed down the hall, silently following her. Michonne held the door open for her friend.

"What's wrong?" Sasha asked gently, shutting the door behind them.

Michonne dropped into Rick's usual chair, feeling suddenly exhausted. Rick had urged her against today's meeting, insisting that Lori would not react logically. He had been consistent over the last week in his assertion that nothing would happen, that he could handle the situation. Every morning when they got out of bed and went their separate ways, Michonne remained terrified that she would not see him again. The feeling only abated when she arrived each night at his home and could hold him, hold Carl, hold Andre. She turned her eyes on Sasha as her friend sat down next to her.

"Have you told Rick?" Sasha read Michonne's expression and her silence. "That you're afraid?"

Michonne shook her head, the tears finally escaping. She opened her mouth to speak, but only a quiet sob escaped. "He keeps insisting nothing will happen."

Sasha's arm was around Michonne in an instant. She rubbed hard circles into her back. "You need to tell him," she suggested forcefully.

"I used to try to tell Mike," the memories were coming fast and thick, the fights she and Mike had over his friend Terry, the way she had begged him to stop indulging his friend's every whim. "He never listened." She could still hear the doctors shouting as they wheeled Mike to the MCU, still could see Terry standing there, covered in her husband's blood with that dumb look on his face.

"I'm sorry," that had been his woefully inadequate statement. He disappeared the following day, not even bothering to show up to Mike's funeral.

"Rick isn't Mike," Sasha reminded her, reaching for tissue on the corner of Michonne's desk. "This is not going to end the same way."

"You can't know that," Michonne buried her face into the Kleenex. She had kissed Mike goodbye that evening, sure that he would crawl into bed later that night, smelling faintly of secondhand smoke and full of Terry tales to make her laugh. Instead, she spent the night fitfully in a plastic hospital chair, praying the same prayer over and over until her mind went numb. A gun and a man with a bad temper had successfully removed her husband from her and their son's life.

"No," Sasha agreed, pulling back. "I don't know what's going to happen. But I did know Mike," she paused, wiping Michonne's face with a clean tissue and tossing it into the bin. "And I'm pretty good at reading people, so I can assume I know a little bit about Rick. That man's got you over at his house every night, he's picking your kid up, he's giving you shooting lessons," Sasha listed these off, "He's taking this seriously. That's your partner. You don't keep important shit from your partner."

Michonne quieted her tears, Sasha's words permeating through the fear and sadness. "Thank you," Sasha's face was blurry through Michonne's still tear-stricken vision, but she could make out her friend's smile.

"You would do the same for me," Sasha coaxed the damp tissues from Michonne's hand and threw them away.

"So, you and Abe…" Michonne ventured at changing the subject. Sasha laughed.

"Nice try," she rolled her eyes. "Call your boyfriend, then we can talk about my love life."

"We should have a party, when this is all over. Invite Abe," Michonne smiled, letting out a wet chuckle.

"As long as you buy the beer and the meat, I'll get him to cook," Sasha snagged her leftovers from the bag on Michonne's desk. "Wipe your face," she instructed, heading out of the door. "Your mascara is all runny." With a smile and a nod, Sasha was gone.

The sick feeling returned in the silence of her office. Michonne stood and went to her window, glancing down at the place in the street where she had first laid her eyes on Rick. He'd been cussing up a storm, fighting tooth and nail, even after he was clearly beaten. She had admired his spirit, even then. A fighter was always someone that Michonne would side with.

"Hey, beautiful," his voice sent a rush of relief coursing through her when her arrived to pick her up. Rick had scarcely allowed her to be alone for the last few days, insisting that they all stay together. He was waiting for her in the lobby when Michonne came down the elevator.

"What's up, officer friendly?" Glenn was the first to spot Rick. The two men exchanged some sort of masculine hug.

Sasha threw a pointed look over her shoulder at Michonne. Michonne nodded back at her. Rick was not Mike. He would listen to her.

"How was your day?" he asked her as her coworkers moved out of the building and into the parking garage. Michonne pulled him to the side, finding a corner to sequester them both in.

"I talked to Lori," she informed him, her eyes on the door behind him. Everything appeared to be calm outside.

"Do you think it did any good?" Rick's hand rested on his waist, just above his holstered weapon. Michonne was supposed to be getting shooting lessons with it this weekend.

She shrugged, feeling cold despite the jacket she was wearing. "I guess we will find out," her eyes darted to the door once more. Rick caught the movement.

"Michonne, are you ok?" he reached for her, drawing her into him.

Michonne took a deep breath, shaking her head. "No," she admitted, closing her eyes for a brief moment. "I'm afraid, Rick."

He grasped her tightly, turning her face towards his. "Michonne, I promise you, nothing bad is going to happen."

"Mike used to say that," it was a simple statement but it had the intended effect. Rick came to a full stop, his eyes widening.

"I forgot," he exhaled, his voice quiet. "I forgot you've been through this before. That's why you talked to Lori?"

"Maybe she can get through to him. Maybe you won't have to use that," Michonne gestured to his gun. "It was worth a try."

"Did she watch the video?"

"She did," Michonne nodded. "And she took the therapist's card."

"His captain has seen it now too. They may pressure him into mandatory counseling." Rick's voice was calm, the same tone he had used when she had been terrified atop the horse months back.

"It could help," Michonne said this as much for herself as for Rick.

"It could," Rick agreed. "That man used to be my best friend. Maybe he'll see reason." Rick encircled her with his arms. She leaned into his chest. "Maybe we should go away for a while, you and me and the boys," he suggested. "Maybe we take their spring break and just get out of town."

"We absolutely should," Michonne agreed. "After we take care of Shane." She wanted to enjoy her time with them, not worry the whole time.

"What do you think we should do?" Rick asked her. Michonne wished she had an answer.

"We try your way and mine. Together, we can get this done," they had to. Too much was at stake.

"Our way," Rick grinned. "I like the sound of that."

"Lori said that the baby is probably Shane's," Michonne watched Rick's face. "She says she wants to help him."

"Maybe she will," Rick stroked her cheek. "I'm glad you took the chance to talk to her. I couldn't have done it."

She kissed him, her fingers toying at his curls. "Where would you want to go on vacation?" she asked.

He grinned, taking her hand and leading her out to the parking lot. "Somewhere warm. With a beach."

"I'll have to dust off my bikini," she clung to him tightly, his warm palm pressed firmly against hers.

"See now," he unlocked his truck and helped her in. "That's a mental image worth fighting for." He paused, looking up into her face as she settled into the passenger seat. "I'm not leaving you," he told her, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"I believe you," she pulled his face down level with hers, kissing him deeply.


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: I've been fighting a cold for the last few days. On one hand, it has given me time to write, on the other, it's made my brain foggy. Apologies if there are more typos than usual. Thank you as always for your support. Your outpouring of positive words warm my heart.**

* * *

The sound of glass shattering in Michonne's kitchen caused Rick to bolt awake instantly. For a moment, he was groggy, sure that it was just another nightmare. He listened intently in the dark while Michonne stirred next to him, lifting her head in panic.

"Rick," she breathed, fear plain in her tone.

"Shh," he held a finger to his lips, already exiting the bed. He found his gun without problem and thumbed the safety off. Beside him, Michonne leaped into action, crossing quietly but urgently to her closet. She emerged with the katana that Rick recognized from her Halloween costume, unsheathing it and holding it in front of her. Rick resisted the urge to smile. Michonne was a decent shot, but still did not take to guns with much enthusiasm. Their lessons had been more out of necessity than her desire to learn. She looked formidable wielding the sword.

Satisfied that she had protection, Rick headed for the door. He listened out into the hallway, holding his breath. Faint footsteps sounded from just outside.

"The kids," Michonne whispered urgently. Rick threw the door open, stepping out first.

"Go," he instructed. Michonne did not waste time. She rushed down the hall, bursting into their bedroom.

"Carl's gone," her head became visible from beside the doorframe, her voice calm but her expression suggesting panic.

"Stay with Andre," Rick was already rushing towards the kitchen, gun raised. He flicked on the light, hugging the corners, python cocked.

"Dad!" Carl's startled cry nearly bowled him over. His son was clutching a broom, clearly in the middle of cleaning up a shattered drinking glass.

"Carl," Rick lowered his gun exhaling in relief. "He's out here, Michonne!" he called back down the hallway.

"I was just thirsty," his son was nearly in tears.

"It's ok," Rick set his gun down, kneeling to comfort him. "You just startled us is all."

Michonne appeared, holding a bleary Andre. He blinked curiously at them all. "Why are we awake?" he asked, his voice heavy with sleep.

"Why do you have your gun?" Carl was still panicked. "And why do you have a sword, Michonne?"

"We heard the glass break," Michonne leaned her weapon down against the counter. "I guess we weren't thinking clearly."

"We should go back to bed," Rick caught Michonne's eye over his son's head. He appreciated her trying to downplay the situation. Carl, however, was not fooled.

"I'll finish this," Michonne took the broom from Carl's hands, handing Dre off to Rick. She kissed both boys on the top of the head. Carl gave her a hug before leaving the kitchen.

"Why are you so worried, dad?" he asked him quietly as Rick escorted him back to his bedroom. Andre was asleep already in Rick's arms. "Did Shane say something?"

"Go on back to sleep," Rick instructed, depositing Dre back in bed. "I promise we'll talk about it in the morning."

Carl climbed back into bed reluctantly, his eyes staring morosely back at his dad. "You promise?" he asked.

"I promise," Rick repeated, drawing the blankets over both boys and dropping a kiss on Carl's forehead. He made his way to the kitchen to retrieve his gun, then back down the hallway to Michonne's bedroom.

"Is Carl all right?" she asked. She placed her sword back into the closet.

"He knows it has something to do with Shane," Rick flopped back on the bed, exhausted. He set his gun back on the nightstand. Michonne joined him, stretching out beside him. "I told him I'd talk to him about it tomorrow."

"Carl's too smart," she said fondly, brushing the curls back from Rick's forehead. "What are you going to tell him?"

Rick shrugged. "I'm not sure." Shane was his stepdad. Rick didn't want him afraid or worried for his mom. "Do you think we're getting paranoid?" he asked Michonne. "It's been weeks and nothing's happened." They had been nothing if not vigilant, switching homes at random so that Shane couldn't catch them off guard and staying together during the nights.

"Have you heard anything from Lori?" Michonne questioned quietly, her long fingers still plying at his hair. Despite her outward calm, Rick knew that her fear had not completely abated. It was part of the reason he hadn't let his guard down, despite Shane's lack of appearances lately.

Rick sighed, leaning into her touch. "I saw her the other day at the park. She wanted to see Carl. She mentioned something about couple's therapy."

"Maybe it's working," Michonne speculated.

"Maybe," Rick rolled his body to face hers. "Maybe we should take that vacation." Michonne laughed. "I'm serious," he continued. "I'm starting to get jumpy. I think we need some time away from all this mess. Let's take the kids."

"And go where?" Michonne paused in her ministrations.

Rick pulled her against him. "Let's go to the beach."

"It'll still be pretty cold," she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Not in Florida," he brushed his fingers through her hair, playing with the new length.

"You want to go to Florida?" she asked, twisting her legs around his.

"Carl's never been to Disney World. Has Dre?" Rick could feel his body responding to hers, waking up despite the lateness of the hour.

"No," Michonne looked thoughtful. "Carl's spring break is next week. Can you get off work?"

"Shouldn't be a problem. You?" Rick watched as Michonne reached over him for her phone, thumbing through her calendar.

"No hearings next week," she announced.

"Sounds like it's meant to be," he guided her back into his arms, his hands snaking under her over-large pajama shirt.

"On one condition," she straddled him, her expression serious. Rick glanced up at her curiously. "We go to the Wizarding World of Harry Potter."

Rick's snort of laughter shook them both. "My girlfriend is a huge nerd." She slapped at him, but he deflected her hands. "Fine, we can go to Harry Potter Land—"

"The Wizarding World of Harry Potter," she corrected.

"Sure," he nodded, still unable to contain his laughter. "When we come back, I'll talk to Lori. See how Shane is actually doing."

Michonne nodded, settling down on top of him. "Maybe we were overreacting," she said hopefully.

"We'll find out, especially if the baby is mine," Rick brought his hands to his girlfriend's waist. The idea of having a daughter was an enticing one, but he imagined her with brown skin and curls like her mother's.

"Time will tell," Michonne sighed and relaxed into him.

"I always wanted more kids," he admitted. "But not like this."

"Maybe you'll have the chance to have them on your own terms," Michonne rolled her hip against him suggestively.

"Yeah?" Rick's blood pressure immediately spiked, both at her words and her actions.

"Not right away," she amended, "But one day. If things go well."

"How are they going now?" he asked her flirtatiously, kissing her beneath her chin.

"Well enough for me to want to take a vacation with you," she joked, her fingers finding his hair again.

"We should get an adjoining hotel room for the kids," he suggested, lifting her shirt off slowly. He dropped kisses along the smooth planes of her stomach, allowing his imagination to conjure up an image of what it would be like if their baby was between them.

"You're eager to get me knocked up, aren't you?" she laughed against him. Rick remained silent, instead choosing to kiss her deeply. The one benefit to their situation with Shane is that he had gone to bed every night with Michonne in his arms. In some ways, it felt like they were already married. Their kids had breakfast with them every morning and dinner every night; they carpooled to pick their sons up after school. They had a rhythm now, a steady way of working through their days. Dre had no reservations about hanging out with Rick and Carl when Michonne wasn't there, and Rick had caught his girlfriend and Carl gabbing away on multiple occasions. It was natural, this thing growing between them, easier than it had ever been with Lori.

He rolled Michonne beneath him, shrugging off his shirt as her hands made quick work of his boxers. She pressed her forehead against his, gasping quietly as he brushed against her. He tangled one hand low around her waist and brought the other to the back of her neck, holding her against him. Her legs wrapped around him, her hand pressing insistently on his lower back. He happily obliged her, relishing in every breathy moan he coaxed from her lips. Rick set a pace that would normally infuriate him, moving slowly, deliberately.

"I love you," Michonne's voice broke against him, her hips rolling against his.

"We should get married," Rick felt the suggestion slide past his lips before he could think of the consequences. Michonne froze against him.

"Is this you asking me?" her mouth fell open.

Rick shook his head, speeding up the pace, drawing a surprised groan from her. "Trust me, you'll know when I ask you." He bent down to kiss her. "I just wanted to run the idea by you first."

"Are you always going to bring up important things while you're inside of me?" she laughed, burying her face in his neck, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

"Can't think of a better time," he seized her legs, laying her back against the mattress and bringing them over his shoulders. Michonne immediately reached for a pillow to smother her cries of pleasure.

"We probably _should_ get two rooms," she sighed a moment later, once Rick collapsed on top of her. He rolled onto his side, content and utterly exhausted. "I'm not the biggest fan of diamonds," she told him. "and purple's my favorite color."

"Good to know," he kissed the back of her head, smiling.

88888

"He brought up marriage?" Andrea's blonde eyebrows leapt upwards at Michonne's statement.

"What's weird about that?" Glenn asked, looking skeptical.

"Don't you think that's a little bit soon?" Andre questioned them all.

Sasha shrugged but Glenn looked affronted. "I think when you know, you know," he said pointedly.

"How would you know?" Andrea laughed. "You're just a baby."

Sasha came to his defense. "Glenn's a grown ass man in a grown ass relationship," she smiled at him. "And Michonne is a grown ass woman." Michonne laughed, forking a bit of potato salad into her mouth. Carl and Andre had been eager to help her make it this morning, resulting in Michonne doubling the amount to account for the absolute mountain of mayonnaise they had dumped in. Luckily, there were plenty of people to help consume it.

"Exactly," Glenn nodded emphatically, reaching for a chicken wing off the picnic table in front of them. It was the first truly warm day of spring and they were taking full advantage. Hershel had been kind enough to host a BBQ and both Rick and Michonne's friends had come prepared, laden with food and drink enough to feed an army. Daryl was chatting away amicably with Maggie and Beth, Rick was conversing at the grill with Hershel and Abe. Eugene hung around, bouncing from group to group. Michonne and her coworkers were seated around a picnic table, sipping beer from frosty bottles and watching Carl and Dre run around the yard.

"These are so good," Andrea took a break from examining her friends to compliment the food. "You definitely should hang on to Abraham. He can cook."

"Maybe one day you'll be grilling me about our plans," Sasha teased.

"I'm sorry," Andrea swallowed, looking between Michonne and Glenn. "It just all seems like it's happening fast. First, Michonne is stopping a fight in the street, next thing I know you're taking a family vacation and talking about marriage." She took a pull from her bottle. "And this one," she nodded at Glenn, "Our baby is in love."

Glenn's cheeks flushed scarlet. "I'm not a baby."

"No," Michonne assured him, ruffling his hair, "But you're _our_ baby." All three women burst out laughing.

"I'm going to go stand at the grill. With the men," Glenn stood up, seizing another chicken wing and his half-empty bottle of beer.

"My therapist friend says Shane and Lori have been coming in regularly," Andrea informed them once Glenn was out of earshot. "She can't tell me anymore than that."

"Michonne said he hasn't been around in weeks," Sasha picked at her food.

"It's been quiet," Michonne nodded, turning her eyes back to the kids. Carl and Dre seemed intent on digging a hole for some unknown reason. Rick walked over to them, observing their labor from above. She could see him asking them questions. Dre held up a handful of red dirt for Rick to inspect. Andrea turned her head, watching what had so captivated Michonne.

"Shit," she whistled lowly. "Maybe you should get married. You've got it bad."

Even Sasha laughed, causing Michonne's cheeks to flush. "Has Shane contacted you?" she turned the subject back.

"No," Andrea shook her head. "If he's cheating on his blushing bride, it's not with me." She smirked at Michonne. "So, do Sasha and I get to be bridesmaids? You had such a little wedding last time. You're going to have to do it up this time around."

"I look good in blue," Sasha informed her, grinning.

"Blue works for me too," Andrea added.

"Settle down, ladies," Michonne took a drink, "He hasn't even asked yet."

"Can't be too long now," Sasha glanced backwards, waving. Rick's eyes were on them. He waved back, smiling. "That man is so damn in love with you."

"I'm going to join Glenn," Michonne stood up, her face flushed. He friends continued laughing. Rick met her halfway between the table and the grill.

"Our sons are over there trying to dig a hole to China," he informed her, stopping her momentum with a hand around her waist. "What were you ladies laughing about over there?" he turned his face towards Sasha and Andrea who promptly burst into peals of giggles.

Michonne rolled her eyes. "They love to tease me," she told Rick, taking his hand.

"Do they know you're going to be gone next week?" he asked her.

"That's why they're laughing. Our family vacation is apparently hilarious." Michonne bent down to the cooler, handing Rick another beer before grabbing one for herself.

"Daryl was teasing about it too. Apparently, we're an old married couple." He gratefully accepted, using his belt buckle to pop both caps. Michonne kissed him on the cheek.

"I'm all right with that," she brushed her fingers through his stubble. Rick grinned at her.

"I figure we can leave early tomorrow. Maybe the boys will sleep for most of the ride."

Michonne laughed. "I doubt it. They've been buzzing since we mentioned 'Disney World'."

"It's worth a shot," Rick glanced over at the mud fight that was now erupting between Carl and Dre in the yard. "They're going to end up riding home in the back of the truck," he mused, releasing her.

"Just spray them with the hose," Michonne told him, laughing.

"Not a bad idea," Rick moved off, rushing for the side of the building. Sensing shenanigans, Daryl quickly joined him. In no time at all, a full water fight broke out, soaking not only Carl and Dre but Beth and Maggie as well. The latter did not take it lying down, seizing ice from the cooler and pelting the two men with it. Glenn got involved, assisting his girlfriend in her assault.

"Mom!" Carl called out to Michonne. "Come help!"

For a moment, the world seemed to freeze. Rick caught her eye from across the yard, an expression of surprise clear on his face. In one smooth motion, he turned the hose, spraying her full force. Michonne screamed, covering her face. Rick laughed back at her.

"That's how you want to play?" she asked, already rushing towards him. Carl and Dre cheered their approval as she wrestled the hose from his hand, drenching him as he yelped. Hershel appeared in the doorway of his house.

"I leave for ten minutes, and you all wreck my yard," he lamented without venom. Abe appeared by his side with a beer and a plate.

"I'll make sure they clean it up," the redhead told him with a nod. Hershel accepted.

"I have to have you around more often," he informed him with a smile.

Carl and Dre were exhausted when they returned to Rick's house that night. "Maybe they will sleep tomorrow," Michonne whispered to Rick as they carried the boys inside. They laid them down together in the top bunk, not bothering to change them into pajamas. They could shower in a few hours.

"Michonne?" Carl's voice stopped her in her tracks as she went to leave the room. Rick paused near the door.

"Her Carl," she came back to stroke his hair.

"I called you 'mom'," he told her, his blue eyes almost glowing in the dark. "Is that ok?"

Michonne felt her heart skip a beat. She bent down to kiss his head. "That's ok with me."

"Oh good," he sighed, already drifting back off to sleep. "Dre calls Dad 'dad' too, when it's just us. I'll tell him that it's fine. He was asking."

Michonne smiled, feeling tears pushing at the back of her eyes. "It's definitely fine," she assured him.

Rick reached for her as she shut the door behind her, pulling her into his chest. "Apparently, Dre calls you 'dad' when we aren't listening," she informed him.

Rick chuckled. "Now I for sure have to ask you to marry me."

She shoved him. "I thought that was already the plan."

He grinned, kissing her. "I didn't want to seem too overeager. But now…can't argue with kids." Michonne remained silent, unable to speak. "We should pack the car," Rick gave her one more squeeze. She nodded, following him outside.

Rick fell asleep almost without preamble when they retired to bed, one arm draped around her waist, breathing gently. Michonne lay away, her mind racing. It had been difficult over the last few weeks to focus on anything besides her fear. Now that Shane had seemingly slipped away, it was all that consumed her thoughts. She wanted this, Rick beside her night after night, planning vacations and having picnics. She wanted to grow their family. Rick had made it clear that he was on the same page.

Her last relationship, the proposal had been a surprise. Mike had gotten on one knee after she passed the bar, proposing in front of their family and friends. Dre has been similarly unplanned, making his appearance just ten months after the wedding. She hadn't given much thought to her relationship, just going with the flow. Mike's death had changed that part of her, removing some of the spontaneity from her life. Rick had brought a bit of it back.

"I love you," she whispered quietly, rolling closer to him.

"Love you too," his murmur startled her. Rick popped his eyes open, grinning. "Go to sleep, beautiful," he tightened his grip around her. Michonne closed her eyes, happy to oblige.

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"When are you coming back?" Lori's question crackled against Rick's ear in the early hours of the morning.

"We'll be back Friday. I'm just letting you know, so you don't worry." Rick loaded the last of the bags into the trunk of Michonne's car.

"Tell Carl to have fun," Lori sounded surprisingly pleasant.

"I will," Rick glanced back at the house. Michonne was coming out of the front door, shuttling the boys outside. "When I get back, we need to talk," he told her. "About Shane." Rick had put off discussing the situation with his on. Talk of their vacation had successfully distracted him. There was no reason to worry Carl, not until there was something real to tell him.

Lori exhaled. "Fine," she sounded resigned.

"I'm going to hand the phone to Carl," Rick smiled as Michonne finally reached the car. "Take care of yourself."

Carl groggily accepted the cellphone as he climbed into the car. The sun was not quite up yet. They had a 7-hour drive ahead of them. Rick kissed Michonne. "Ready to go?" he asked, content to no longer be speaking to Lori.

"Almost," she grinned playfully, reaching into her purse. She came out with a pair of round, black-rimmed glasses. Her smile widened as she pushed them onto her face.

Rick laughed. "Nerd," he kissed her affectionately.

"I have one for each of us," she informed him. "You're going to look great." With a smile, she slid into the passenger seat. Rick smiled after her.

"You guys ready?" he glanced in the rearview mirror. Carl was off the phone and Dre was already asleep in his booster seat.

"We're ready," Michonne answered for all of them.

"All right then," Rick started the car and backed out of the driveway. Across the seats, Michonne reached for his hand. He grasped it tightly, starting off down the road.


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: the one upside to being sick in bed is that I have plenty of time to write, which means you get multiple updates very quickly! I love reading all of your feedback! Thank you so much for taking your valuable time to support this story! We're drawing to the close here soon. Enjoy!**

* * *

"Rick!"

The sound of his own name drew Rick's attention. Noah paused midbite, glancing up behind him.

"Oh shit, Grimes," Noah dropped his lunch down onto the dashboard. "Isn't that your crazy old partner?"

Rick whipped his head around in time to see Shane stalking through the parking lot, dressed in full uniform. Rick set his own gyro down and exited the car, determined to be ready.

"Should I call for backup?" Noah asked.

 ** _The night before…_**

Paranoid Schizophrenia.

The diagnosis tumbled around in Shane's brain like his old high school track shoes in his mother's washing machine. The doctor had said it pointblank, as though it wasn't something life altering, as though he had a cold, or something curable with penicillin. His father had it, of that Shane was now sure. The list of symptoms was seared into his brain, each with several distinct memories tied to it.

 _Unexplained anger_ \- Shane knew this one intimately. It had been a daily occurrence throughout his youth, and one that was growing inside of himself. His father had always been angry, always, even on good days. There had been times when he started yelling and Shane wasn't even sure what had got him going. He had gotten used to it. Perhaps that was why he didn't recognize it in himself.

 _Emotional disconnectedness -_ Shane had fought against this one, was still fighting it daily. He loved Lori, he knew he did. He had for years. Now that he had her though….it was easier to be angry then to deal with the aftermath of their decisions, or the guilt that was clear as day on her face every time she looked at him. He'd tried to drown it away in sex with strangers, a technique that had been effective until it turned out that the stranger knew Rick's girlfriend. That had come back to bite him in a big way.

 _Severe anxiety and aggression-_ It had started once Lori told him about her conversation with Rick. Now every time the phone rang, he was terrified it was his old friend. His animosity towards the man who used to be like his brother grew until it almost consumed him.

 _Argumentative behavior-_ His whole life people had told him that he was argumentative. He used to take a certain amount of pride in it, considering it an intolerance of bullshit. The therapist had informed him otherwise.

 _Violent tendencies -_ The video of his fight with Rick had been used to illustrate this one. Lori had cried beside him on the couch, her hands shielding her bump.

Now she was sleeping beside him, her back turned towards him. After months of nothing but borderline animalistic sex, sleeping together was something new and altogether foreign. Shane knew that he should be better at cuddling, at stroking her hair or whatever shit women were always demanding. Lori didn't seem to mind that he didn't touch her in bed, or at least, she didn't complain. He watched her for a moment, her dark hair swept up in a ponytail, gently snoring. The baby had made her a loud sleeper. Not even the body pillow he'd picked up at the store had helped. He was glad she was sleeping; she hadn't been good at that lately.

Sighing, he got up, deciding to go for a run. If he couldn't get his mind to rest, he could at least tire out his body. The clinical words the therapist had listed ran through his mind with every step he took, his feet pounding the pavement rhythmically. Psychotherapy. Electroconvulsive. Antipsychotic meds.

He paused near Carl's school, his chest heaving. He'd started the meds already. The therapist said that the side effects should be mild. She said it was a blessing. Shane recounted the last 6 months of his life. It didn't feel like the blessing he thought it would be. He had stolen his best friend's wife, and now he couldn't be sure whether it was something he had actually wanted or something some genetic disorder motivated him to do. Lori ran hot and cold at her discretion. He thought about Rick, about the look on his face a few weeks back, about the way he'd kept himself between Shane and his girlfriend. Rick saw what he was. Now Lori did too.

Shane sped back up, running through the night. He kept running, up the darkened streets, past residences and traffic lights, putting miles between his bed and himself. He came to a stop in front of a familiar office building. He sat down on a low wall in front of a closed diner, staring at the place in the street where he and Rick had beaten one another. He could barely remember what had transpired before Rick pulled over, but he closely recalled the fight. He couldn't have stopped himself. If that hot lawyer hadn't run out to restrain him, he didn't know what would have happened.

It had felt good, he had to admit it to himself. Rick had always had life so together, kept his composure, even when he was complaining nonstop about Lori. To get him just a little unhinged, to bring him to his own level…well there was a satisfaction in that he could not deny.

Except Rick had rebounded, and quicker than Shane had suspected. He'd expected some kind of fight for Lori, for Rick to push back. Instead, he divorced her without a pause. And instead of Lori being elated, she sank into a depression. All the while, Rick had flourished, building another life with another woman, even adding another kid. Might be two more, for all he knew. The fact that the baby could very well be Rick's stung worst of all. Lori had lied to the both of them. Still, he had married her, knowing it was the responsible thing, the Rick thing to do. He'd hoped it would smooth things over.

So far, Lori remained just as distant.

Shane took in the darkened street, weighing his options. He could keep on running, get miles away, not stop until he reached the next county, or the next state. It would be easy, starting over. Maybe he could go on back to King's County. He'd been good with women there.

Wouldn't be much of a man if he did that. He could even hear Rick saying it, those judgmental eyes stinging him.

Standing up, he turned and ran back home. The sun was beginning to rise when he crossed back over the threshold, passing furniture that had once belonged to Rick and climbing into the shower. The hot water fogged up the tile bathroom. Shane breathed in the steam, calming himself down.

"Shane?" Lori's voice sounded just outside the glass shower doors. He slid them open, coming face to face with his wife.

"Did I wake you?" he ran a hand over his head, feeling the hair growing back in.

"Where were you?" she asked, her eyes squinting.

"I didn't think you'd notice," he mustered a smile. "I didn't want to wake you up."

Lori stared at him. For the millionth time, he wondered what she was thinking. She never seemed to speak up unless she was yelling at him. "Scoot," she instructed all at once, pulling her pajamas over her head. Baffled, Shane did as he was told, making room for her. "You're thinking about what the doctor said," it wasn't a question. Lori cut right to the chase, her baby bump brushing against his stomach. He backed up, allowing her to come under the stream of water.

"Yeah," there was no point in lying. It was hard to lie under her withering stare anyway.

"It's a lot to think about," she admitted. Shane nodded, unsure where she was going with this. "We'll get through it. We have to." She reached for his hands, drawing them over her stomach. "We married each other, for better or worse. Looks like we have to get through the 'worse' part first."

Beneath his hands, the baby kicked. Shane felt his first genuine smile in weeks. "I was thinking we name her Valerie, for your mom."

"I like that," Lori turned around, leaning back into him. He wrapped his arms around her. His mind wandered back to Rick, to the look he had last given him.

Shane kissed the back of his wife's neck, knowing what he needed to do.

 _ **Now...**_

"Rick!"

The sound of his own name drew Rick's attention. Noah paused midbite, glancing up behind him.

"Oh shit, Grimes," Noah dropped his lunch down onto the dashboard. "Isn't that your crazy old partner?"

Rick whipped his head around in time to see Shane stalking through the parking lot, dressed in full uniform. Rick set his own gyro down and exited the car, determined to be ready.

"Should I call for backup?" Noah asked.

"Nah, just give me a minute," Rick smiled reassuringly at his partner. Noah nodded, his wide eyes on Shane. To his old friend, Rick turned around, the scowl cutting deep on his face. "You're like a bad penny," he told him, staring him down.

"I'm glad I caught you, man," Shane paused in front of him, smiling like he was catching up with an old friend. "They said you were on vacation last week."

"Whoever you're talking to needs to stop running their mouth about my business," Rick made a mental note to find out who. This was getting old.

"You'll have to take that up with Lori then," Shane paused, looking nervous. "Have you talked to her lately?"

"No. We don't talk like that anymore," Rick kept his hand on his waist above his holster. They'd talk even less now that he knew she was telling his travel plans to Shane.

Shane nodded, almost frantically. "Look man, I gotta say something and it ain't easy. So, I'll spit it out." He glanced down at Noah, watching from the patrol vehicle. Noah did not take his eyes off him.

"Well?" Rick prompted. His patience with Shane was still short, even after a week on vacation. He was exhausted in the best way from shuttling Carl and Dre through multiple amusement parks, standing in lines and buying overpriced foods. He wouldn't have traded it for anything though; the looks on their faces, especially when they made it to Harry Potter Land, had been completely worth it. Thanks to his girlfriend, they all now had not only glasses, but house scarves and wands and a picture in front of a giant castle. Even Rick had to admit how fun the trip was, riding roller coasters through goblin banks and drinking butterscotch flavored deliciousness. Apparently, he was a Gryffindor, a fact that all three of his companions insisted was true. Michonne had wrapped herself in a blue and silver scarf, Dre had picked yellow and black and Carl matched his father. It had been worth wearing scarves in the Orlando heat just to make Michonne smile. It had paid off in spectacular fashion in their hotel room when Michonne insisted on wearing only her new purchase. Rick would probably never be able to look at those kids' movies the same way again.

"I've been going to that shrink your girl told Lori about," Shane suddenly couldn't meet Rick's eyes. "Apparently, I got what my pop had."

Rick wasn't surprised at the information, only that Shane admitted it. "That right?" he asked, trying to stay objective.

"Got me on all kinds of pills now, talking to her a few times a week." Shane kept his eyes on the street, kicking gravel.

"Does it help?" this was the only question that Rick wanted an answer to.

"Seems like it," Shane looked up at him. 'I know you're worried I'm going to pull some shit, and I don't blame you. I've pulled plenty of shit on you lately. But I'm getting better." He licked his lips, nodding. "I'm getting better."

"I'm glad to hear it," Rick nodded in return. There was enough sincerity in Shane's tone that Rick believed him. Still, he wasn't likely to stop carrying his gun anytime soon.

"I think I got a name picked out, for my daughter," Shane exhaled. "She's gonna be here soon."

"I know," Rick was counting down the days. They were just shy of two months now, for better or worse.

"Even…even if she's yours, I'll do right by her, and Carl." Shane tapped his foot, looking Rick square in the face.

"We'll see," Rick swallowed, "You just worry about getting better." It took a lot not to remind Shane that Carl was not his, not matter what pills he was taking. Any daughter he had would be his too, meds be damned.

"I was thinking man, what if we let this whole thing blow over?" Shane smiled nervously. "Let bygones be bygones. You were my best friend—"

"Shane," Rick cut him off. "We're not going to be friends again. That's not going to happen."

"We can't spend all this time fighting though, our kids are going to be siblings…"

"I know that," Rick shook his head. "You think I don't know? I ain't going to fight with you, but we aren't going to be friends either. Just…acquaintances." Rick searched for a word to define it.

"What would it take?" Shane questioned.

"A cold day in hell," the answer was out before Rick could even consider whether it was the kind thing to say. At Shane's crestfallen expression, he amended his statement. "There's a lot that happened between us. It's not the kind of stuff you forget, Shane."

Shane bit his lip, exhaling hard, "I guess not."

"Look, I'm happy for you and for Lori. I'm glad you're getting healthy. But you and me," Rick gestured between the two of them. "We don't need to be seeing each other unless it's absolutely necessary. Too much has happened."

"So, you don't hate me?" Shane asked, almost pitifully.

"No," Rick didn't have the energy to hate Shane. He was too busy pouring it into loving other people. He really ought to thank him. He'd led him to Michonne. Rick kept that part to himself. "We both ended up where we needed to be. I think that's the truth."

Shane nodded. "Maybe, man, maybe. You seem like you're getting along fine."

"It took a minute," Rick leveled with him. "Helps to have help. Stick with the folks that are willing to help."

"That used to be you," Shane observed.

For a moment, just a moment, Rick felt a pang of pity for the friendship that had died between them. "Used to be," he agreed, shaking his head. Shane took his point.

"All right then," Shane nodded again. "That's fair." He patted his palms against his jeans.

"You come to my house again uninvited though, and I'll shoot you." Rick told him. Shane laughed. Rick found himself smiling despite his best intentions.

"I know you will," Shane's gaze fell to Rick's gun. "You won't see me around."

"Good," Rick rocked back on his heels. "Are we good?"

"We're good," Shane waved at Noah, then Rick. "Take care of yourself." He was gone as quickly as he arrived.

"Do you believe that?" Noah could barely contain his question as Rick re-entered the patrol car.

"I don't know," Rick sighed, looking off in the direction Shane had disappeared to. "I still need to talk to Lori."

"Call her now," Noah instructed. "It's going to bother you all day if you don't."

This was true. Rick nodded, pulling out his cellphone. The first woman he wanted to call was Michonne, but it could wait until he had all the information at hand.

"Hello?" Lori answered on the third ring.

"You'll never guess who just came to talk to me," Rick began, cutting right to the chase.

"What did Shane say?" Lori sighed.

"Said he's on meds. Said he's getting it together. Is it true?"

"He told you that?" she sounded surprised.

"Is it true?" Rick repeated.

"Yes," Lori exhaled again. "we're both going. He has paranoid schizophrenia. It's genetic."

"So, he's getting help, then?" Rick asked. "And it's helping?"

"He's been a lot calmer. It's a long road though…" Lori sounded exhausted just talking about it.

"That's good then," Rick couldn't help the smile that cracked over his face.

"I'm going to do the test, right after the baby's born," she told him suddenly. "So, you'll know."

"And Shane will know," Rick added.

"Yeah," Lori sounded worried. Rick moved to end the conversation.

"Well, I'll talk to you then," he told her.

"Can I see Carl? Maybe this week?" she asked quickly.

"I'll figure some time out," he promised. "I'll have him call you."

"All right," she paused. "How are you?"

"I'm good," it was true. "I'll talk to you later, Lori." Rick hung up, glancing back at Noah.

"He's not crazy, then?" his partner asked.

"Nah, just got some shit to work on," Rick stowed his phone away.

"That's…good?" Noah ventured.

"Better than him hiding in the bushes," Rick confirmed.

"So, it's over?" Noah picked his lunch back up.

"We'll see," but Rick smiled, seizing his own food. He couldn't wait to get home.

88888

"Where are we going, dad?" Carl trailed alone after him, holding Andre's hand.

"I need you guys' help with something important," Rick told them. "But it's a secret."

"No telling?" Dre's eyes widened in excitement. "Is it for my mom?"

"It is," Rick confirmed, steering them through the mall.

"What are you getting her?" Carl questioned.

Rick paused, kneeling to face both boys. "I want to get her a ring. The special kind."

"The wedding kind?" Carl's eyes widened. He shoved the brim of his hat up, looking his dad in the eyes.

"Exactly," Rick swallowed nervously.

"What does that mean?" Dre looked between Carl and Rick. "You would be my dad?"

"Yes, and Michonne would be your mom," Rick looked at the two boys he thought of as his own. "Would that be all right?"

"Yes," Dre's answer was instantaneous, the smile etched on his face. Rick grinned back at him.

"Carl?" Rick glanced at the older of the two.

Carl swallowed, pushing his long hair out of his face. "I think she'll like that."

"Will you?" Rick prompted him again.

"Yeah," Carl nodded, "it would be cool."

"We can live in one house!" Dre was already bursting with excitement, his mind racing with possibilities.

"True," Rick stood back up, reaching for Dre's hand. Carl walked along beside them. "Want to help me pick a ring?"

It took several hours and three Dairy Queen vanilla cones, but Rick achieved his goal. It took a while to find a place that worked without diamonds. When Rick finally saw it, he knew all the searching had paid off.

"That's the one," he pointed, waiting for the clerk to bring it out of the case for their inspection.

"You're sure you don't want diamonds in the band?" the clerk asked.

Dre made a face. "Mama hates those. Because of what they do to the little kids in Africa to get them" he informed both Rick and the clerk.

"You heard him" Rick grinned as the clerk flushed in discomfort. "No diamonds, please."

"Dad," Carl nudged him in the ribs. "I like this color better. Isn't this one nice?" his fingers pointed at another band in the case.

"It is," Rick had to admit that his son had a point. The more he looked at it, the more he could picture Michonne wearing it. "Could we get these stones on that band?" he asked the clerk.

Her eyebrows jumped, but she nodded. "It will take a few days to size it correctly. Your mother, she must have very modern tastes."

Dre nodded seriously. "She's the best."

"Her house is really pretty," Carl added, bouncing on the balls of his feet. The clerk smiled at them.

"If you're sure, it'll be ready in a week," the store clerk informed them, tucking away the prototypes Michonne's ring would be patterned after.

"Not a word of this to mom," Rick cautioned, watching Dre and Carl peering through the glass. "You keep it a secret and I'll let you help me."

"We can ask with you?" Carl looked delighted by the prospect.

"She'll be marrying all of us. If she says yes," Rick amended.

"She will." Carl looked sure of it.

"She's not marrying me," Dre screwed his face up. "I came out of her."

"That's true," Rick caught the sales clerk's eye as she succumbed to laughter. "Thank you," he handed over his credit card, refusing to look at the price.

"It's an unusual choice, but very beautiful," the clerk smiled at the three of them.

"Mom's going to love it," Carl beamed up at his dad.

"I'm sure she will," the clerk smiled kindly, handing back Rick's credit card.

"You're sure you're ok with this?" Rick asked Carl. The two of them were near the mall jungle gym, watching Dre run wildly through the plastic obstacles. "I know it's a lot. Two moms, two dads…" Rick swallowed hard.

"I don't feel like I have two dads," Carl said, fingering the brim of his hat. "And mom is always mom, but Michonne….she's mom too." He smiled. "I'm glad you're going to make it official. Are you going to have a big church wedding? Can I be in it?"

Rick grinned at his son's questions. "I'm thinking we let Mi—mom pick what she wants," he told his son.

"I bet she's going to want something in a church. Or maybe on a beach. That was fun last week," Carl laughed at the memory. "I still can't believe she let us do that."

Michonne had willingly played the victim for the three of them, allowing them to bury her neck deep on the beach. Carl and Dre had a blast sculpting a mermaid body for her and Michonne had obligingly smiled for the pictures. Rick remembered digging her out and rushing her to the ocean to clear what felt like roughly 100 pounds of sand out of her purple bikini.

"A beach wedding might be nice," Rick agreed, his mind racing.

"How are you going to ask?" Carl questioned.

"You let me worry about that. Why don't you go keep Dre company?" Rick shooed his son off. "Go be a kid."

Carl happily acquiesced, rushing headlong into the play place. Rick took the opportunity to dial Michonne on his phone.

"I've got good news for you," he told her, grinning against the device.

"Then come home and tell me," he could picture her flirtatious smiles as she said it.

"I'll see you soon," he promised her, hanging up. Rick took a moment to just breath, watching his kids run screaming around the indoor jungle gym. He kept his eyes on them, clearing his mind, allowing himself to relax.

Everything was going to be ok. It had to be.


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N: I want to thank you all again for your amazing support! It saddens me that this story is drawing to a close, but I am humbled and amazed that so many of you seem to enjoy it.**

 **Without further ado...Chapter 28.**

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"Rick, you have got to be kidding me," Michonne stared at the stables in front of them. The horses were nickering quietly in their stalls, round brown eyes staring curiously at them.

"Figured you might want a chance to redeem yourself," Rick's smile was infuriating, particularly because she still found it so charming.

"I thought we were going camping," she sighed, already resigned to the idea. The horses were beautiful, despite her fear. Her eyes fell to an ebon one with a wavy mane. Rick followed her glance.

"We are," he gave her a reassuring kiss on the forehead. "Trust me, you're not going to want to walk all that way."

"You can do it, mama," Andre rushed forward, Carl on his tail.

"I'm going to ride with you," Rick assured her. "Just hold on tight."

Michonne rolled her eyes. Carl's smile mirrored his father's. He threw her a look from beneath his hat. "You got this, mom."

"All right," she tried in vain to hide her smile, but failed miserably.

"Carl, you ride with Dre," Rick instructed.

"I want to try by myself," Dre's protest cut the air.

"You can try by yourself at Hershel's. Ride with Carl," Rick's tone left no room for argument and Dre promptly complied. Michonne smirked at him.

"Ok dad," she teased lowly as the stable employee led their sons away.

Rick smirked at her, "I'm in charge," he straightened up dramatically, exaggerating his bowlegged swagger for her amusement. Within moments he had secured the black horse she admired, leading it over to her. "Ladies first," he held out his hands to give her a boost.

It was the first week of summer and Rick had convinced her to escape to the country for a weekend for Dre's first camping trip. Lori was due any day now, a fact that weighed heavily on them both. This trip either marked the last hurrah before a baby entered their lives and vacations became improbable, or a pre-emptive celebration. Either way, the weather was nice and all three of her boys were smiling. Michonne was enjoying herself.

She mounted the horse with considerably more ease this time around, scooting up to allow Rick space behind her. He didn't hesitate to pull her close. "This time I don't have to pretend I'm not liking you bouncing around in my lap," he whispered directly in her ear, his smile teasing.

Michonne grinned back. "This time I don't have to pretend I'm not doing it on purpose." Rick chuckled, kissing her on the cheek.

"We shouldn't tell Penny we rode someone else though," Rick urged the horse out of the barn and into the line where Carl and Dre already waited with several horsed employees. "She might be jealous."

Michonne laughed, leaning contently back into his arms. It was lovely to be in warm weather again, especially after such a cold and dramatic winter. Carl and Dre would be home all day now, with Dre preparing to start kindergarten in the Fall. It was an exciting and daunting thought, the four of them all together for their first summer break. Her sweet baby boy had blossomed into a rough and tumble child in recent months, egged on by Carl and Rick's constant presence. Michonne did not mind in the slightest, but it was exhausting at times. She was glad Rick was there to run them ragged outside most evenings. He already had both boys signed up for summer basketball, and convinced Hershel to teach them farming during the day.

"Look!" Both Carl and Dre began frantically pointing, drawing Michonne's attention from Rick to the scenery around her.

"Holy shit," she mumbled under her breath. Rick laughed again behind her.

"It's a sight, isn't it?" he whispered against the side of her face.

"Waterfalls!" Dre's delighted screams caused their instructors to laugh, glancing over their shoulders.

"Is this your first trip to the falls?" a brunette woman with a wide smile and a deep southern accent asked.

Michonne nodded while Rick shook his head. "I used to come here as a kid. I wanted my family to see it." Michonne's stomach jumped at his casual term of endearment. Her fingers found his on the reigns. He leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek. "Relax, I've got this," he instructed.

Michonne did as she was told, enjoying the view. She managed to get off a few pictures when she was brave enough to let go of Rick's hands, her maternal need for preserving the memories of her sons on horses outweighing her fear of toppling to her death off one of the cliffs they passed. The guides kept up a steady commentary, talking about the history of the park, but Michonne did not hear much of it.

"Is that where we're camping?" a gaggle of tents came into view. She pointed down at them.

"Not quite," Rick answered cryptically.

"Be patient," it was Carl who shouted this back at her, grinning over the back of his horse.

Michonne stuck her tongue out at him, resolved to make sure she watched what she said to Rick. It was clear their children were always listening. Rick chuckled, "Mind your business up there," he called out good naturedly to Carl. Both boys promptly began to laugh. She watched them interacting, wondering how the addition of another child would change their dynamic. Carl would have a sibling soon, one who was his blood. The thought was sobering.

"Hey," Rick pinched her leg. "Stop thinking."

She laughed. "How do you know I'm thinking?" she asked.

"You're doing the lips," he pursed his own dramatically.

Michonne pinched him back. "That is not what I look like."

"Well, obviously, you've got the prettier mouth. My point is the same." His laugh successfully distracted her. "We're almost there."

The sight of the cabin in front of them a few minutes later erased her worries completely. "Cabin" was a modest word to describe the luxury lodge sitting in the middle of a picture-perfect forest.

"You call this camping?" she asked incredulously, the delight clear on her face.

Rick swung down off the horse. "When there's a lady present, this is camping," he teased.

Carl and Dre were already dismounted, staring at Rick expectantly. Rick nodded at them and they scampered off. Michonne watched, her interest piqued.

"What was that about?" she asked, bemused.

"What?" Rick shrugged, clearly trying to redirect her attention. "Come see the inside," he turned, thanking the stable employees, promising to give them a good review. Michonne watched them trot off, waving and well-wishing in southern accents to match her boyfriend's.

"Rick," Michonne couldn't contain her amazement as they stepped inside. She'd been prepared for a weekend of sleeping with twigs and pebbles pressing up into her back in a plastic tent, not in the comfort of a warm and well-furnished cabin filled with overstuffed couches and matching throw rugs.

"It's our first camping trip," he smiled. "I had to make it memorable." He pressed his lips to hers. "You should go have a bubble bath. The boys and I will make dinner."

A sudden thought occurred to Michonne, tied to a memory from a few months back. _"You'll know when I propose."_ Her heart began to pound against her chest as though she was having a kind of panic attack. She swallowed thickly, taking in the crinkled blue eyes of her boyfriend as he smiled innocently at her.

"Go on," he patted her on the butt, nudging her off in the direction of upstairs. "I'll get us set up."

She retreated up the stairs, marveling at her surroundings as she entered the master bedroom. A California King size bed was the focal point of the room. Michonne grew warm at just the sight of it, her mind racing with possibilities for later. The jacuzzi sized tub in the bathroom prompted a similar reaction from her.

Michonne sank into the tub, relishing the warmth of the water and the moment of silence. She silently recounted the last few months of her life, comparing them to the previous two years. The first 730 and some odd days since Mike had been murdered had passed impossibly slowly, a blur of routine, of trying to hold it together for Dre, for herself. It had all changed the evening that she had heard two police officers fighting in the street. It seemed like her second life had begun then, in a fury of cussing and blood and a southern man with curly hair that had seen better days. It was unexpected, this thing that grew between them. She didn't want to imagine a world in which she had not met Rick now.

She took a deep breath, stilling her stomach. The last few months, despite their drama, despite the hard days, they had been some of the best of her life. Was it too much to hope that this would be the new norm? Rick hadn't brought up marriage in months, not since that night with her legs around his waist. Things said in the heat of passion were easy for her to disregard, but she should have known by now that Rick did not speak lightly.

She dragged herself from the tub a half hour later, pulling on a fluffy white robe. She swung the bathroom door open to see a trail of rose petals leading from the master bath to the master bedroom. She followed them, her heart jumping. Her favorite green dress was on the bed, along with a long stemmed red rose.

"We're dressing up for dinner." The note was written in Carl's handwriting. Michonne laughed to herself.

"Ok," she whispered for her own benefit, reaching for her outfit.

More rose petals led her back down the stairs and into the dining room. Rick was in his brown Valentine's Day suit, Carl and Dre dressed accordingly in miniature black blazers. Carl's hair was visible in a rare moment without his hat, and brushed neatly.

"Full disclosure," Rick handed her another rose as she reached the bottom step. "We didn't actually cook."

Michonne laughed, taking his offered arm. "You cleaned up so nicely, I won't complain."

"You look beautiful," he complimented, his eyes dancing over every inch of her, as though he hadn't seen this dress before.

"You do, mama," Dre added. Carl nodded ardently.

"Thank you," she felt a blush rising to her cheeks. "You all look very handsome."

"Carl," Rick nodded at his son. Carl rushed forward, pushing buttons on a small speaker on a corner table. Music started coursing through the room. Michonne immediately laughed.

"Is this what I think it is?" she continued to giggle, already knowing the answer.

"From the part where the elf and the ranger kiss," Rick laughed. "Carl helped me find it."

"It has an elvish name," Dre contributed. "Dad can't pronounce it."

"Thanks, Dre," Rick smirked at him. "Do you have the box?"

Dre excitedly patted down his pockets, extracting what could only be a ring box. Michonne felt herself beginning to hyperventilate.

"Rick," she swallowed, trying to stay steady on her feet.

Rick smiled, "Relax, it's just a box," he opened the lid to reveal an empty velvet surface. Michonne glanced at it, confused. "Carl?" Rick prompted his son and the nine-year-old stepped forward, grinning, and dropped something in his father's hand. "Carl had the ring," Rick laughed.

Michonne shook her head. "Clever," but the trick worked; she felt much calmer.

Rick took a deep breath. "The boys and I have been talking lately," he began. "I know we haven't known each other all that long, but this right here," he gestured to the four of them, "this feels like a family. A lot of things have happened to all of us, and some of them haven't been the greatest. Those things don't seem to matter much though, because they led us to each other." Rick paused, swallowing thickly. Andre and Carl stood behind him, both staring up at him intently, hanging on his every word. Michonne was sure that she looked the same. "I love you,' he continued. "I want us to be a family, officially. So…"

Rick dropped to his right knee and Michonne felt herself grow dizzy.

"Will you marry me?" his voice cracked a bit from nerves. Behind him, Carl and Dre began bouncing around nervously.

"Yes," Michonne did not hesitate. She took a step forward, almost falling into Rick. He stood up at the same time, catching her in a tight embrace. "Yes," she repeated, winding her arms around his neck. He held her in place, swaying them on the spot.

Carl and Andre began to repeat her answer, turning it into a chant, "Yes, yes, yes!" Michonne felt herself begin to laugh.

"Show her the ring!" Carl requested.

"Right," Rick came to his senses, withdrawing from her just enough to hold up the ring in question. Michonne held out her hand and he pushed the band up her ring finger. It felt familiar already.

"Do you like it?" Dre swung around her legs. "We all picked it out."

Michonne glanced down, taking in the black gold band set with a deep purple amethyst. The bands of the ring curled around the jewel like vines, twisting delicately in and out. Michonne had never seen anything like it.

"I love it," she smiled at her sons, then Rick. Carl and Dre hugged her tightly around the waist, sandwiching themselves between she and Rick. Michonne felt a profound sense of belonging. "I love you all," without warning she began to kiss the three of them. Dre and Carl yelped in protest, rushing away from her sloppy affections. Michonne chased them around the cabin until Rick announced that they should eat dinner before it got cold. They ate outside, a feast of summer BBQ ordered from somewhere nearby. Rick held her hand beneath the table the whole time, his thumb rubbing absentmindedly over her new ring.

It was the middle of the night before Michonne and Rick were alone together, the boys finally sleeping exhaustedly from a long dinner and playing cards on the deck beneath the stars. She was sitting on the balcony attached to the master bedroom, resting in Rick's lap with a blanket pulled over the two of them.

"I can't believe you did all of this," she nuzzled him gently, pulling his curls through her fingers.

"It was the least I could do," he tightened his arms around her.

Michonne pulled back, pushing gently on Rick's chest to get him to lean against the back of the deck chair. The forest was humming lowly around them, the dark providing cover for what Michonne wanted. She straddled her fiancé, running her hands beneath his shirt, popping the buttons open one at a time.

"I cannot wait to spend the rest of my life with you," Michonne leaned forward to whisper this in Rick's ear. He groaned, his grip on her waist tightening. Still, he allowed her to take the lead, opening the fly of his jeans and working them off. Michonne reached for the hem of her dress, shimmying it up and over her head, mindful to put on a show as she removed it. Rick grew hard beneath her, his eyes never leaving her. He licked his lips, his self-control teetering. He gave a sharp intake of breath when the black lace of her lingerie came into view.

"Damn," he breathed out, pressing his face to her skin. Michonne gasped as his tongue began to dance patterns across her body. "There's some things I want to say that I couldn't say in front of the kids." He shifted Michonne, sitting up to face her. Michonne watched him carefully, drawing his face between her hands. He leaned into her touch. "I don't know that I was ever truly happy before we met. I had Carl, and I love him, but the rest of it, it was like a job, something I had to do every day. Just go through the motions." Rick paused, exhaling against her skin. "You changed all of that."

"Rick," she pressed her face against his, brushing kisses along his skin.

"Even if Lori has the baby, and it turns out to be mine, it's you who I want to build the rest of my life with. Everything else is just complications." He kissed her deeply, his hands holding her against him like he didn't want her to move. Michonne melted into him, settling down on his lap, her thighs pressed hard against his.

"It doesn't matter what Lori does," Michonne assured Rick, rolling her hips over his. Rick groaned loudly, his fingers slipping beneath the waistband of her new lingerie. "I'm with you," she drove her point home by grasping him.

"I know, I know that," Rick's words were strained, his fingers practically cutting into her skin.

Michonne stood up, rolling the thin black lace down her legs and onto the deck beneath them. She crawled back into his lap slowly. His hands fumbled with the clasp at her back. The hooks released and the last bit of fabric between them fell to the ground. She sank down on him inch by inch, doing nothing to hide her sigh of pleasure. Her hand tangled into his hair, clutching the back of his head as she bounced on top of him leisurely. "You're the best thing that ever happened to me," she moaned as he bucked up into her, clearly struggling to let her set the pace. "I love everything about you," she continued baiting him, seeing how much he could take. "I love your accent. The way you walk, your curly hair, that little squint you do when you think someone's being an idiot." She punctuated every point by lifting her body and letting it fall.

Rick let out a strained chuckle, broken by her rolling her hips again.

"I love how bossy you can be," she continued, speeding up gradually. "God, I love it when you take charge of things." She moaned along with him as his control started to slip. His hands burned into her thighs, wrapping around to grasp her.

"Michonne," he ground out her name, asking for permission. In answer, she stopped moving completely, pulling him into a deep kiss. His tongue raced past her lips almost instantly at the contact. Without preamble, he lifted her up, moving them smoothly from the chair to the deck, the blanket beneath them. Michonne got one brief, beautiful glance as the expanse of inky night sky above them before Rick's face replaced it, his hair silhouetted by silver starlight. Michonne clung to him, allowing him to lift her hips off the ground. Rick braced one arm near her head, his body bowed over hers, his other hand clutching his favorite part of her anatomy. He drove in, pulling out torturously slowly.

"Rick, oh God," she didn't care that he almost always had her begging. It felt good to relish control to this man, even for just a moment.

He took the hint, driving into her rhythmically. She panted against him, calling out his name. His hand found hers, pulling both above her head and holding them still. She bounced helplessly beneath him, matching his movements. His fingers traced around her ring again.

"I can't wait to marry you," he kissed her neck, "wake up with you every morning." He released her hands and grasped her waist again, pulling away just enough to sit backwards, his legs folded beneath them. "I can't wait to have kids with you," he yanked her tighter against him, still driving in and out. Michonne gasped, her legs clenching around his waist. "I can't wait to make you feel like this for the rest of our lives," his hand snaked between her thighs and Michonne felt her body ignite, her world exploding in wave after wave of euphoria. She called out for him, reaching blindly out until Rick leaned down to completely cover her. She clutched him tightly, unwilling and unable to relinquish her hold on him. His arms encircled her, his breathing ragged, his heart pounding against her chest. He pressed his face against hers. Michonne wasn't sure which of the two of them were openly crying. Perhaps they both were.

After a long moment, he rolled over, coming to rest on his back right beside her, their skin still pressed flush to one another. A summer breeze rolled through, cooling their still heated bodies. Michonne clutched Rick's hand, glancing up at the indigo sky. She had never seen so many stars at once.

"I love you," Rick's voice drew her attention. She turned her head, smiling at the sight of his tear-stained blue eyes and the look of pure elation on his face.

"I love you too," she kissed him softly. "More than you'll ever know." She wished she had the words to convey precisely what it was like to have the pleasure of his company, to be the woman he showered his affection on, to wake up in his arms every morning and know that it was the only place in the world that she belonged.

"I think I've got some idea," he nuzzled her softly before pulling her beneath his arm. Michonne angled herself towards him, molding against him. Rick tugged up a corner of the quilt beneath them, shielding her from the chill of the night.

They laid naked together on top of the thick fabric of the blanket, staring up at the sky flecked with glinting stars, the silence between them filling up with things they now had a lifetime to say.

Michonne couldn't remember a time where she had ever felt quite like this.


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N: Thank you so much for all of your support! I've been seeing links to this story popping up in different places. I am incredibly flattered that you all are spreading the word. We're just one chapter away from the end. Thanks for reading!**

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"You proposed?" Lori was seated in a wheelchair just outside the automatic doors of the hospital. Rick stood a few feet away, desperately trying to control his temper.

"Not that it's any of your business, but yes," Rick glanced backwards into the hospital, searching for Michonne. She had led Carl off to the giftshop to buy his new little sister a present. Lori was holding the baby in her lap, waiting for Shane to bring the car around. Rick stole periodic glances at the infant, hoping to discern something about her parentage just by sight. From what he could tell, she was a pink little lump with wispy, light brown hair and eyes she seemed to content to keep shut. She was beautiful, a perfect little infant. But Rick could not tell if she was his.

"That's a little soon," Lori bounced the baby gently, her eyes firmly on the parking lot. "And seeing as she's going to be Carl's step-mom, I'd say it is my business."

"Lori," Rick wasn't keen to fight a woman who had just given birth, but he wasn't going to stand outside and be bullied either. She'd been nitpicking since her eyes fell on the new ring on Michonne's left hand. "You didn't tell me when you up and married Shane. You've got no room to talk."

"Is that why you did it? To get back at me?" there was something almost hopeful in her eyes.

"I did it because I love her," Rick did not hesitate in his answer. "I want to spend the rest of my life with her. Have kids. The same things you should want with Shane."

Lori sniffled, fussing with the blanket around the baby. "She could be yours," she said quietly.

"We'll find out tomorrow," Rick sighed. The nurses had told him privately that the lab would take 24 hours to respond. He'd been at work when the call came through, knee-deep in paperwork after a string of drug-related arrests. He had wanted nothing more than to come home to Michonne and fall into bed, but in typical fashion, his ex had drawn the attention to herself. Still, Carl deserved to meet his sister, so Rick had left Dre with Hershel and Beth and come to the hospital the following morning.

"What if she's yours?" Lori whispered.

"Then we'll talk about what to do." Rick could feel the headache building between his eyes. "But you need to be ready for what's coming Lori, because whether Shane is in the picture or not, I'm not coming back." It was harsh, especially considering the current situation, but Rick did not flinch in telling her.

"I know that," Lori's eyes stayed on the infant in her arms. She hastily wiped her face.

"Good," Rick nodded, glancing over his shoulder again. "Shane is trying. You owe it to the both of you to see that through."

Lori looked up at him, her eyes wet, but glinting with determination. "I'm not going to mess up another marriage."

Rick had his doubts but refrained from expressing them. The doors behind him slid open, finally revealing the person who he wanted to see most.

"Mom, we got her something!" Carl bounded excitedly from Michonne to Lori, brandishing a gift bag. "Open it!"

"Why don't you open it for me," Lori smiled kindly at her son. "I've got my hands full." She betrayed no sign of the conversation she had just had with Rick.

"It's a hat," Carl announced the gift before he pulled it from the bag. "Mom said that babies' heads get cold."

Lori's brow furrowed. "When did I tell you that?" she asked.

"You didn't," Carl said, blissfully unaware. He slid a pink knit cap on his sister's head, kissing her crown gently. Rick had to smile. Beside him, Michonne stirred. Understanding dawned on Lori's face.

"You mean Michonne," she glanced over at the woman in question, her expression morose. Michonne did not flinch under her gaze. She was still in her work clothing, her blue wrap around dress clinging to her as the summer breeze stirred her skirt. Atlanta summers looked good on Michonne; her sun-kissed skin seemed to glow in the afternoon light.

"Of course," Carl's eyes fell on his mother, at last noticing that she was upset. "Are you ok?" he asked timidly.

"Mom's just tired," Rick stepped in quickly. "It's hard work, bringing babies into the world." Rick looked back at his ex, daring her to contradict him. Lori settled on changing the subject.

"I suppose I owe you a 'congratulations'," she looked at Michonne, mustering a smile.

"What are we congratulating?" Rick had been so consumed with the situation at hand that he didn't notice Shane pulling up and parking at the curb. His hair was growing back in, thick and wavy as it had always been. He swallowed nervously upon seeing Michonne, his eyes darting between her and Rick.

"They're getting married," Lori told him matter-of-factly.

"That's great news," Shane looked genuinely chuffed by the news. Rick wondered whether it was sincerely for their happiness of because Shane no longer thought Rick was a contender for Lori.

"Thank you," Michonne smiled graciously at him. Rick laced his fingers with hers.

"I helped pick the ring," Carl informed them. Shane took a quick glance at Michonne's left hand.

"You've got good tastes, kid." He looked on nervously while Carl smiled. "I've gotta get your mom home though. These ladies need their rest." Shane circled around to the back of Lori's wheelchair.

"Can I come see you soon?" Carl asked his mother, kissing both her and the baby.

"I hope you do," Lori smoothed his hair back. Carl had left his hat at Hershel's house.

"You will," Rick assured them both, moving to clasp his son's shoulder.

"I love you," Carl called after them.

"Love you too, baby," Lori allowed herself to be loaded into the backseat of the car, her baby beside her. Shane waved from the driver's seat, pulling off.

"Why can't they name her until tomorrow?" Carl asked Rick curiously.

"I think she wants to surprise you," Rick grinned down at him. Michonne glanced at him above Carl's head. The young boy did not need to know that Lori was waiting to know which last name to put on the birth certificate.

"The nurse thought it was cool that I have two moms," Carl chirped happily away as Rick walked Michonne to her car. "She asked how we all knew each other."

"Did she?" Michonne engaged him, clutching his hand as they weaved through cars.

"She was nice," Carl observed. "She taught me how to hold the baby. Maybe I can try it soon."

"I'm sure your sister will love that," Michonne kissed him on the top of the head.

"I'll see you at home," Rick kissed his fiancée, wishing that they were all in one car. They shared a long look, full of things he knew they would say in a few hours' time.

"Do you think the baby is yours, dad?" Carl's question a few minutes later caught Rick off-guard.

"I'm not sure," Rick answered honestly.

"Does she look like me? When I was a baby?" his son was full of questions today.

"You had more hair," Rick chuckled at the memory. "And you cried, all day and all night seemed like for a week." Rick remembered falling asleep standing up in the shower.

"So, I was bad?" Carl glanced over at him.

"No," Rick was quick in his response. "You were just talkative."

"Was mom mad just now? About Michonne?" Carl asked quietly.

"I don't know," Rick settled on a white lie. "Her emotions are high."

"Shane seemed happy," Carl observed.

"He did," Rick didn't bother to think too deeply into that.

"I wonder if mom will ever like Michonne," Carl mused out loud. "She should talk to her. Michonne is so easy to like."

"Give it time," Rick reached over to ruffle his son's hair.

Michonne was home by the time Rick returned with both boys, fresh from a shower in their bedroom. Rick wondered whether they would move into her house after they tied the knot, or whether they would search for a new place entirely. There was a lot to talk about.

"Lori took that well," the hint of sarcasm on Michonne's lips brought a smile to his face.

"Pretty much exactly how I expected it to go," he laughed, slipping his shoes off.

"She's a cute baby," Michonne observed, coming to sit on the bed, rubbing lotion into her legs. Rick became distracted by the motion. She smirked. "Are you listening?"

"Kind of," he sat next to her, pulling her legs into his lap. The skin was impossibly soft and warm. He ran his fingers over it, calming himself down. "I don't want to talk about Lori," he admitted.

"What do you want to talk about?" Michonne passed him the bottle of lotion. He happily complied, rubbing some into his hands before smoothing it over her feet. She sighed contently, leaning backwards. Rick heightened the pressure, smiling at her reaction.

"Let's talk about our wedding," Rick suggested. They had yet to broach the subject at all. After he had proposed to Lori, she had jumped headfirst into the planning, drowning him in fabric samples and templates for place cards and bridal gifts.

Michonne smiled, moving further into his lap. "All right. What about our wedding?"

"When do you want to get married?" this seemed like a critical detail. Michonne laughed.

"Soon," she fiddled with his uniform, pulling it out of his waistband. Rick lifted his arms, allowing her to tug the shirt over his head. Michonne moved behind him, her hands firmly working his shoulders.

"How soon?" the idea was appealing to him. He exhaled, slouching against her.

"What if we aim for the fall?" she suggested, working his sore muscles between her hands. "Something small, just our family and friends."

"You read my mind," he groaned as she went to work on a knot in his neck.

"Sasha and Andrea want to be bridesmaids," Michonne laughed quietly. "I was thinking maybe Beth and Maggie too."

"Just Daryl for me," Rick paused, considering. "Glenn too. Maybe Noah? And Carl." It was odd to think of his son as a groomsman in his wedding, but Rick wanted it.

"Sounds good," Michonne worked her way up to his ears. "Dre can be ringbearer."

"Good," a streak of pleasure ran through Rick's body as Michonne's fingers moved into his hair. "So, it's all planned then."

She laughed. "Might need one or two details more." Her laughter intensified as Rick spun around, pulling her into his lap. "Are you worried?" she turned the subject back to the situation at hand.

Rick sighed. "Yeah, I am. I don't want Lori to have another connection to me." He kissed her. "Carl wants the baby to be mine."

"That's understandable," Michonne nodded, her eyes turning to the door, as though she could see their sons through it.

"What do you want?" it occurred to him that he had never asked her.

Michonne looked surprised. "I'd be lying if I said I want her to be yours." She looked almost bashful at her next confession. "I want to have your babies," her statement was accompanied by a little pout.

Rick began to laugh. "You can have my babies," he assured her, enticed by the thought.

"Don't tease," she pinched him playfully, misinterpreting his laugh.

"I'm not," Rick smacked her bottom lightly, delighting in her grin. "We can get a jump on it right now."

It was her turn to laugh. "Maybe we should get married first," she suggested.

"I'll call Hershel," Rick nipped at her neck and breasts, "he's an ordained minister. We could do this tonight."

Her giggles escalated. Rick took the opportunity to continue kissing her skin. "So impatient," she chided.

"I'm just trying to get in your pants," he admitted. "or robe," he amended, running his hands beneath the silk.

"I should have made you wait until marriage," she teased, catching his hands as he snaked them up her legs. "You're insatiable now."

"I'm trying not to worry," he admitted, burying his face in her neck and inhaling the scent of her soap.

"Then let me distract you," Michonne undid the tie on her robe, letting the fabric fall open. Rick's mind immediately went fuzzy and his mouth ran dry. "Is it helping?" she asked innocently.

In answer, Rick seized her around the waist, rolling them over onto the bed. "I can't even remember what I was worried about," he told her. Her giggles ratcheted up his affection for her.

A knock at the door caused them both to bolt up. Michonne hastily straightened out her robe. Rick reluctantly disengaged from her.

"Come in," he called once they were sufficiently detangled. Carl pushed open the bedroom door.

"Why are you still up?" Michonne went into mommy mode immediately, reaching for him as he walked towards the bed.

"I couldn't sleep," Carl was morose, dragging his feet. Michonne pulled him up between them on the mattress.

"What's bothering you?" she stroked his hair.

"How come my mom doesn't like you?" he asked, distressed. "Is she always going to be like that?"

Michonne shot Rick a look above Carl's head. Rick sighed.

"She just has to get used to the idea of sharing you Carl. That's all." He reached down for his son, rubbing his back.

"Do you think she's mad at me, that I call you "mom" too?" Carl directed his question at Michonne.

"I think it's just new," Michonne echoed Rick's words. "But if it bothers you, you can call me "Michonne" around your mom."

"No," Carl laid his head in her lap. "I want to call you mom."

"Then mom will get used to it," Rick said firmly. "Don't worry about it anymore."

Michonne kissed his head. "Want to stay here with us for a bit?"

Rick held back his sigh, turning his mind back to parent-mode. Carl hugged Michonne. She squeezed him back.

"Guess what?" she asked him, her tone excited. "Your dad has something to tell you about the wedding."

It took Rick a beat to remember, but then he grinned too. "I want you to be my best man," he reached out to tickle Carl. "You think you could do that for me?"

The smile on his face made Rick forget his frustrations. "Really?" Carl asked.

"Really," Rick confirmed. Behind them, Michonne smiled widely.

"I think I can do it," Carl said seriously.

"Good," Rick kissed him on his forehead. "You should go get some sleep."

"Ok," his spirits lifted, Carl moved to hop off the bed. "Goodnight, mom and dad!"

The bedroom door swung open again, this time revealing Dre standing there in his Underoos, looking confused.

"Are we sleeping in here?" he asked blearily.

Rick held back his sigh. "Come on," he gestured for Dre to join them.

He bounced to the bed, planting himself firmly near Carl, between Rick and Michonne. "Goodnight," Dre announced, immediately falling asleep. Carl was quick to follow, passing out headlong on Rick's pillow.

Michonne smiled sympathetically at Rick as he moved to the corner of the bed. "Maybe we can move them later," she whispered.

"That's definitely going to happen," Rick whispered back. He smiled despite his irritation. It was nice that their kids wanted to be around them all the time, but this habit had to stop. Rick needed Michonne to himself occasionally.

True to his word, Rick picked each boy up one by one and transferred them back to their room. Dre, true to form, didn't stir, but Carl woke up blearily.

"Love you dad," he mumbled as Rick deposited him next to Dre in the twin bed. He wondered vaguely if the bunk beds would fit in here.

"Love you too," Rick kissed him, leaving him to his sweet dreams.

Michonne was asleep when Rick returned to bed, her face buried in the pillow. Rick climbed in carefully, trying not to wake her. His mind was still turning, the worry crawling through him like a virus. A new baby, especially one with his ex, would be a huge wrench in his plans. No matter how firm Michonne was that she was with him, Lori would be sure to make life difficult. She was jealous, that was clear. Rick doubted it would be below her to use her daughter to drive a wedge between he and Michonne.

"You're thinking too loud," Michonne's voice startled him. She turned over, blinking at him in the dark of the room.

"Sorry," he rolled closer to her, running his hand over her back. She was still wrapped in her robe. "I'm just worried," he admitted.

"I know," she kissed him, her lips brushing over the bridge of his nose. "Worrying won't change anything," she admonished gently.

"Doesn't mean I won't do it." He glanced at his phone on the bedside table. "We've got 12 hours before the results come through. So, I'll be worrying for 12 hours more."

Michonne laughed, shaking her head. "You Grimes boys are needy," she smirked at him.

"We are," Rick agreed, burying his face in the crook between her neck and shoulder. "Good thing you're here to take care of us."

"I'll take care of you," her voice dropped in timbre. Rick's heart sped up at her tone. He glanced up at her curiously.

Michonne laughed lowly at his expression. She rolled over, positioning herself to face him. Slowly, he tugged her robe open, his mouth frantically kissing every inch of her he could reach. She rolled her body into him, encouraging him to continue.

"I was thinking," her words were punctuated by breathy gasps and Rick's mouth continued its work, "we should start looking for houses. Maybe something with a yard, for the boys."

Rick pulled back slightly, meeting her eyes. "Are you sure?" this was the house she'd shared with Mike. He wouldn't have thought she wanted to move.

"It's time," she smiled at him, closing the negligible distance between them. Her lips pressed against his slowly, sweetly. "We should build something that's just ours," she told him, her mouth still brushing his own.

Rick slanted his head, deepening the kiss, holding her against him. Michonne wrapped him in her embrace, content to continue this leisurely pace. She imitated him, trailing her mouth down his neck and shoulders, her hands skirting just ahead of her lips, exploring every part of him within reach. Rick closed his eyes and exhaled.

"I love you," he grasped the back of Michonne's head, drawing her in for another deep kiss. Her legs tangled around his. He pulled his fiancée closer to him, guiding her to wrap those long legs around his waist.

"I love you too," her fingernails danced a path down his back, sending chills through him. He returned the favor by rolling his hips slowly. Michonne moaned lowly, clutching him tightly. Her hips moved in unison, leisurely, in no rush to get where they were going. She sucked gently on the pulse point on his neck.

Rick groaned, pressing his face hard into her hair. He dove deeper into her, focusing on the smell of her skin, like vanilla and sandalwood. Her skin hummed beneath his hands, her breathing broken, gasping. She let out periodic little moans, her dark eyes closed, her mouth parted. Rick allowed his sense to be consumed by this woman, his mind filling up with her. He pictured their future house, their wedding in the fall. He imagined coming home, spending every night with Michonne, worrying about the normal silly things, like bills and whether he could convince her to get the boys a puppy. He imagined an ordinary life made extraordinary simply by her presence.

Rick didn't think about Lori anymore that night. He fell asleep still wrapped around Michonne, waking up early, a habit he was adopting from her. He enjoyed that quiet hour before Dre and Carl got up, when Michonne laid next to him. Sometimes she would talk about work, sometimes her mind would turn to politics, at times she wanted to read to him something beautiful she had found the day before. Some mornings she woke up in a frisky mood, something Rick had no issues with indulging. His favorite though, were mornings like these, where all she wanted to do was lay quietly in his arms.

"It's going to be ok," she assured him a few hours later. Dre and Carl were in her car, ready to go to Hershel's house before she headed to work. Rick was in uniform, the back of his mind counting down the few remaining hours.

"I know," and he did. As long as she was there, it had to be.

He threw himself into work, ripping through paperwork, trying to ignore his email inbox. Just before noon, a message pinged in, the electronic beeping putting Rick on high-alert immediately. The lab's email address drew his attention. He clicked on the message, his heart pounding, his eyes flying over the results.

He needed to call Michonne.


	30. Epilogue

**A/N: This story has been a delight to write, and reading your responses has been even more of a pleasure. But as they say, all good things must come to an end. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for the kindness you have showered on me and this story. I'm pleased I could bring any of you even a tiny bit of happiness.**

 **Without further ado, here is the Epilogue.**

* * *

Michonne woke up in the middle of the night to an eerily silent house and a half empty bed. It took her a moment to place her surroundings, her eyes still adjusting to the dark. For a moment, she assumed Rick was in the bathroom, or perhaps getting something from the kitchen. After several minutes, she resolved to go look for him herself. She reached for her robe, slipping her feet into the house shoes at the foot of the bed, tying the warm cloth around her.

"Rick?" she called quietly down the hall, careful not to wake the boys. When no one answered, she began to look around the rooms. Carl and Dre were sleeping peacefully, their snores drifting from their bedroom. Michonne moved on after checking on them, heading for the living room. She found Rick there, seated on the couch, his daughter resting against his chest. "What are you doing?" she asked quietly, running her fingers through her mused hair. Rick glanced up at her, smiling exhaustedly.

"Judith and I were having a little one on one time," he moved carefully, cognizant of the infant in his arms. Michonne took his hand, coming to sit beside him. Rick looked messy; his hair was wild and disorderly, his face heavily stubbled. He had on a t-shirt that had seen better days and the sweat pants Michonne had plotted to throw out on more than one occasion. Still, she found him unbearably handsome.

"How's our little lady?" Michonne reached out to stroke her head. Judith's curls favored her father's, a thick mop of waves already.

"Fussy," Rick's hand covered Michonne's, laying lightly over the baby girl. "I think she just wanted to spend some time together.

Judith opened her eyes, perhaps sensing that she was being talked about. The little brown orbs searched Michonne out. Michonne smiled, leaning forward to kiss her little face.

"She just likes taking you out of bed and away from me," she teased both Rick and the baby. "Judith doesn't like to share."

"She gets that from her mom," Rick laughed quietly.

Michonne sighed, leaning into the back of the couch. Her eyes drifted through the darkened living room, settling on one of the newest additions to the walls. Carl and Dre were smiling brightly in the photograph, standing in their suits in front of Rick and Michonne. She remembered the moment vividly. Rick followed her eyes to the picture.

"That was a good day," he smiled at her, squeezing her hand.

 _Roughly ten months earlier…_

"You look so beautiful," Beth's compliment made Michonne's cheeks flush. The young woman was staring at her almost reverently, her wide blue eyes appraising Michonne's appearance.

"You do though," Sasha joined Beth, adjusting the hem of her own blue dress. Each woman had been allowed to select their own bridesmaid's dress in the shade of blue and style of their choice. Sasha had chosen a tea length silhouette in navy, Maggie a similar style in Tiffany blue. Andrea was wearing a bright turquoise sheath dress, and Beth was in a traditional cornflower princess dress. All of them looked lovely.

"Thank you," Michonne tugged at the bodice of her gown nervously, her eyes on the door. It was almost time.

"Ivory looks good on you," Andrea smoothed the skirt of Michonne's A-line dress, letting it artfully fall. Behind her, Sasha was fussing with her veil.

"Rick's going to fall over," Maggie observed, clutching her bouquet.

"I hope not," Michonne felt ready to pass out herself.

"Are you nervous?" Beth asked kindly, taking in Michonne's expression.

"No," Michonne shook her head, exhaling. "Just ready."

"Relax," Sasha laughed. "In an hour, you'll be hitched to the country boy of your dreams."

Michonne let out a grateful chuckle, shaking her head at her maid-of-honor, "Truly, you have such a way with words."

"Speaking of," Andrea handed her the bouquet, "Do you have your vows?"

"They're memorized," Michonne assured her. Andrea looked skeptical.

"We can just jot them down, slip it in your flowers." She looked around for a pen.

"I promise you, I've got it," Michonne laughed, trying not to look at the clock. She wondered if Rick was ready, if he was already waiting up the aisle for her. She hoped he was as eager as she was.

"All right ladies, line up." Sasha rallied the troops, directing them to the door. The groomsmen came to join them. Daryl was the first in the room. He whistled lowly.

"Rick's going to shit himself," he grinned, standing in line next to Sasha. Glenn grinned at her, looking dapper in his suit.

"I'm going to have to agree with Daryl on this one," the young man kissed her on the cheek. "Rick doesn't stand a chance." He took his girlfriend's arm, giving her a quick peck. "You look beautiful too," he whispered loudly.

Noah smiled nervously at Michonne, taking his place beside Andrea. Carl was the last groomsman through the door.

"Wow, mom!" his eyes widened comically, his jaw dropping open. He looked so adorable in his miniature suit that Michonne felt the sudden urge to hug him. She did just that, not caring for the sanctity of their dress clothes as she pulled in her soon-to-be stepson.

"Thank you," she smoothed his hair back, kissing him on the cheek. He kissed her back.

"Love you, mom," he smiled, looking so much like his father that Michonne wanted to laugh. She watched him take Beth's arm with a flourish.

"Where's Dre?" Michonne looked for her escort.

"Rick was talking to him," Daryl gestured to the next room over. "I'll go grab him." Rick's best friend returned quickly, Andre in tow. Her son was clutching the ring box importantly, delightedly staring up at all their friends and family.

"You're so pretty, mama," he took her hand, squeezing tightly.

"You look very handsome yourself," Michonne smiled down at Dre, seeing his father's face grinning back at her. Somehow, the image calmed her. She bent to kiss him, holding her baby against her for a long moment. "Are you ready?" she asked him.

"I'm ready," he clutched his box under one arm, and grabbed her hand. "Are you?" he repeated her question.

"I'm ready," she echoed him, smiling.

"Then let's go," he kissed her hand.

"Let's do this," Sasha announced. From just outside the doors, music began to play. Michonne took a deep breath, focusing on her steps. She could only see the backs of her friends' coifed heads as they started into the barn. She resisted the urge to crane her own head around to look.

Dre took steady steps next to her, leading her down the aisle. The barn looked lovely, decorated and lit romantically, but Michonne could barely see the decorations. She ignored the glances of their family and friends and coworkers, her hands clutching Dre and her fall-colors bouquet. Her eyes were a few feet ahead of her, staring at Rick. The sight of her fiancé nearly knocked her flat.

Rick was grinning at her, his curly hair brushed neatly back, his cobalt eyes popping against his charcoal suit. He was watching her, excitement clear on his face. Michonne was practically shaking by the time she got to the front.

"Hey, beautiful," Rick took her hands, greeting her quietly.

"Hi, handsome," her face was beginning to hurt from all her smiling.

Hershel stood just ahead of them, clutching his Bible. Andre, Carl, Daryl, Glenn and Noah stood dutifully behind Rick. Sasha took Michonne's bouquet, falling in line with the other three bridesmaids.

Looking back on it, Michonne wished that she could recall the kind words that Hershel spoke. She wished she had glanced more into the rafters, had given the decorations more than a perfunctory look. She wished she had smiled at Cheryl, crying in the audience, or gotten a better glimpse of the silly grin that Daryl kept giving Carl. She should have paid more attention to her surroundings. It was no use. Rick was there, holding her hands and looking at her like she was the only person in the world he wanted to see. Nothing else seemed to matter in that moment but him.

They repeated their vows, promising to love one another in sickness and health, for richer and for poorer, until death. Michonne smiled through the words, watching Rick struggling and failing to hold back his emotions. Until death did not seem a long enough time to love this man. Forever seemed much more realistic.

Dre presented the rings, holding up each of the black gold bands with a flourish. Michonne could see the faint outline of the inscription on the band.

"Would you like to read the inscription out loud?" Hershel smiled at the pair of them. "Ladies first."

Michonne reached for Rick's ring, holding it up for him to see. "In the words of Maya Angelou," She paused for a breath, calming herself. "In all the world, there is no heart for me like yours. In all the world, there is no love for you like mine." Rick's grin widened. His hand found hers again.

"Well said," Hershel nodded at her. "Rick, I hope you picked something as eloquent," he teased.

Rick chuckled. "She's better at this than I am," he admitted. "But I think I found something that's like how I feel about you. It's from a book called _the Alchemist_." Grasping the ring, he raised his voice over the faint sounds of the congregation laughing. "So, I love you because the entire universe conspired to help me find you," he finished his quote with a smile, sliding the band next to the first one on her left hand. Michonne clung to his hand tightly, certain that her heart was about to break through her ribcage from beating so hard.

"Then, by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife," Hershel announced with a wide grin. "You may now kiss the bride."

Michonne supposed that there was an etiquette that should be observed at formal occasions such as weddings, particularly when it came to kissing. If there was such a thing, Rick disregarded it completely. He reached for her without hesitation, one hand coming to the back of her head, the other grasping her ass firmly. She was glad for his tight grip when his lips came down on hers, kissing her so deeply that the spectators erupted into a sound most often heard on 90s sitcoms.

Later, when she watched the recording, she would see Daryl and Glenn covering Carl and Dre's eyes, hear her friends hooting and hollering, observe Sasha's mouth drop open and Andrea high-five Maggie. She missed all those details in the moment, but had the pleasure of being on the receiving end of a kiss that essentially melted her from the inside out.

Rick pulled back with a satisfied grin, refusing to release his hold on her. Michonne clutched his arms, laughing and completely flushed. The pictures of that day captured their happiness completely as the group happily shuffled and re-shuffled, posing and laughing and smiling. It took effort to separate herself from Rick for bridal photos, but he quickly seized her hand again afterwards, pulling her in for her favorite picture of the day. She, Rick, Dre and Carl all crowded together, their arms wrapped around each other, their mouths open in wide smiles. They were a family officially.

"Are you enjoying yourself, Mrs. Grimes?" Rick held her close while they danced, rocking her while their sons, friends, and family watched.

Michonne smiled, kissing him softly on the cheek. "Almost as much as you are," she assured him, watching his beaming face.

"Good," he dipped her for effect, swinging her back up. The chairs in Hershel's beautiful old barn had been pushed aside, rearranged around tables, with a dance floor in the middle. Gradually, couples began to join them. Michonne made out Rick's captain and his wife, and the rest of his precinct. The lawyers of her practice milled in and out around them. Beth spun both Carl and Dre, Maggie and Glenn were wrapped tightly around one another and Andrea was treating Noah to a dance. Sasha had Abraham, the two of them standing just on the outskirts, watching and laughing. Beside them, Cheryl and Hershel were performing an immaculate box step.

"This is perfect," Michonne whispered in her husband's ear, laying her head on his shoulder.

"So are you," he smirked at her. "I like the dress."

"You're going to like taking it off too," she informed him quietly, under the guise of kissing him on the cheek again. He grinned wickedly at her.

"I'm counting down the seconds," he gave her a squeeze, drawing a giggle from her.

Michonne made good on her word a few hours later, when Rick carried her over the threshold of their brand-new house. It was still very much a work in-progress, needing painting and decorating and all manner of TLC. Regardless, the bed was set up in their master bedroom, and it was here that Rick deposited her. Dre and Carl were spending the night with Hershel's family, leaving the newlyweds to their own devices.

"You're so beautiful," Rick's compliment sent arousal flooding through her. Michonne reached for him, taking her time in removing his suit piece by piece, his eyes dilating as he watched her ministrations.

"So are you," she bent down to kiss him, her fingers tracing over the scar beneath his luscious curls. His skin prickled beneath her hand as she stroked him. His arms encircled her tightly. Carefully, he removed her veil and the pins holding it in place, then her shoes one at a time. He stood them up to take off her dress, kissing down her shoulder and back as he pulled down the zipper, his hands caressing her as the garment fell to the ground. He removed her underwear with similar precision, his mouth kissing each patch of skin as it became exposed to him. Michonne watched him, her body flushed. He paused to look back at her.

"I love you," he told her, running his hands over her. Michonne was sure she would never tire of those words from him.

"I love you too," she moved to kiss him. He indulged her for a moment before withdrawing, choosing instead to make a path down her body instead. Michonne lost her balance when he lifted her leg over his shoulder, his mouth causing her whole body to jerk with pleasure. She toppled backwards, hitting the bed, but Rick did not relent, pushing in deeper, moaning against her. Michonne held on for dear life, unable to contain herself. Her hips rolled against him, her mouth fell open and she clutched a fistful of his hair. "Rick," she could barely get his name out.

"Hmm?" he groaned against her, refusing to put even an inch of space between them. Michonne could feel herself beginning to come apart.

"Please," she panted, trying to scoot backwards. "I need you."

Her husband looked up at her, his blue eyes glimmering in the low light. At once, he pulled back, standing up and hooking her legs beneath his arm. He was inside of her before she could get her bearings. The sensation undid Michonne completely. She cried out against him.

"I can't believe I get to do this with you for the rest of my life," Rick's southern accent was strained, his breathing heavy. Michonne kissed him.

"I love you," it was all she could manage to say. "For the rest of our lives." She sat up, urging Rick backwards onto the mattress, reversing their positions.

"For the rest of our lives," he agreed, his hands tight on her waist as she began to move.

Their wedding night set the precedent for the entirety of their honeymoon. Michonne was sure that the Virgin Islands were a beautiful place, full of just as much adventure as the travel websites had promised. She and Rick did not see much of it beyond the private villa they stayed in. She didn't regret a moment of it. The beaches were beautiful, the sand was soft, the nights were clear, and most importantly, Rick was there with her. There was no better way to begin forever.

 _Present Day…_

"She looks like you," Rick grinned, his eyes still on the baby. He bent down to kiss her head gently.

"Really?" Michonne saw Rick's face when she looked at Judith.

"Yeah," Rick adjusted the baby slightly, "She's got your mouth, your eyes, your skin…"

"Your nose," Michonne reached out to touch it, the tip of her finger covering Judith's little button nose completely. "And your hair."

"Still," Rick smiled at her. "it's mostly you."

"It's only fair," Michonne settled down next to him, laying her head on his shoulder. "I did all the hard work for nine months."

"I helped," Rick protested, grinning broadly.

"You certainly did your best to get me pregnant," she teased, her mind racing back almost ten months ago.

"No one told you to bring bikinis like that on our honeymoon," he kissed the top of her head.

"We went to the Virgin Islands," she laughed quietly. Judith stirred, burying her face back in her dad's shirt.

"And you brought nothing but tiny little outfits," Rick pointed out.

"Which I didn't get to wear," Michonne stuck her tongue out at him.

"I didn't hear you complaining," Rick raised an eyebrow at her, looking skeptical.

"You're right," they'd spent the better portion of a week in nothing but their birthday suits. Michonne certainly had no remorse about how their honeymoon had played out.

"That was fun," Rick sighed happily, leaning his head back on the couch.

"More fun than the wedding?" she questioned with a giggle. She recalled that his smile had not left his face that entire day.

"Fun in a different way," the arm not cradling their daughter came to rest on her shoulders. Judith cooed gently, rubbing her face into his chest.

"Someone's hungry," Michonne observed with a laugh.

"You have to talk to your mom for that," Rick grinned, lifting the baby up.

"Both of you come back to bed," Michonne instructed. "I'll feed her. You get some rest."

"I'm ok," he assured her, but he stood up slowly, reaching for his wife's hand. Michonne took it.

She stroked his head absentmindedly while he rested in her lap. Judith suckled away noisily, her eyes open and on her mother. Michonne hummed lowly.

"Carl's going to spend this weekend with Lori, Shane and Valerie," Rick informed her quietly, his voice heavy with sleep.

"Cheryl wants Dre this weekend too," Michonne smiled down at him. His eyes were still closed, his chest rising and falling rhythmically. Judith had the ability to fall asleep in much the same way. Rub their heads, and both daddy and daughter were goners.

"So, it's just me and my girls," Rick grinned, even as he fell asleep.

"Looks like it," Michonne smiled. It was nice to have another girl around the house. It evened the score a bit. She wondered what kind of child Judith would grow to be, whether she would be as feisty as her middle brother or as observant as her oldest. She would be spoiled, if the last few weeks were any indication. When Rick, Carl, and Dre were around, Judith's feet weren't liable to ever touch the ground.

Michonne moved quietly once the baby fell asleep, careful not to wake her daughter or her husband. She lowered Judith gently into the bassinet in the corner, a gift from Lori and Shane. Shane had brought it to Rick bashfully, leaving it on their doorstep with a card from Lori. It had been unexpected but well-received. Maybe Valerie and Judith would be friends one day. They did share a brother.

She tucked her baby in, ensuring she was comfortable before returning to bed. Rick stirred, rolling to make room for Michonne. His arms encircled her as she laid down, pressing her face into the worn-out cotton of his shirt.

"I'm getting you new pajamas for our anniversary," she told him, her fingers toying with a small hole.

"I can put the Frosty ones on, if you want," he teased back, kissing her forehead.

"You're a few months early," she observed. "It's not even Halloween time yet."

Rick chuckled. In one motion, he pulled the shirt over his head, tossing it somewhere beside the bed onto the floor. "Better?" he asked.

Michonne burrowed against his bare chest. "Much," she kissed the skin. His hand found hers, his fingers spinning her wedding band around in a well-practiced motion.

"I love you, beautiful," he sighed into her hair, his body relaxing.

"I love you too," she whispered against him.

Michonne laid in her husband's arms, the wind outside beating gently against their new house. Tomorrow marked two years to the day since she had met Rick. She listened to the sound of him breathing, mixing in with Judith's tiny sighs. If she strained enough, she imagined that she could hear Carl's gentle snores from down the hall, and Dre kicking the wall as he dreamed.

She clutched Rick to her, counting her blessings and falling into a deep, contended sleep.


End file.
